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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23562844">Children of a Lesser God</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Montrose101/pseuds/Montrose101'>Montrose101</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Abused Dean, Alternate Universe, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Blood Magic, Castiel Has Magic, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, F/M, Gay Castiel (Supernatural), Godspeaker Dean, Human Sacrifice, M/M, Men can be raped by women, Necromancy, Political Alliances, Religion, Reverse Gender dynamics, Sexuality is Complicated, Slaves are less than dirt, Slow Burn, Threat of War, Women are physically stronger than men, eventual love, mature content, possible trigger warning, some depictions of graphic violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 18:49:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>214,753</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23562844</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Montrose101/pseuds/Montrose101</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world ruled by women, Castiel is the beautiful and sheltered seventh son of the Warrior Queen of Et Novakar. When delegations from all across the lands begin to arrive, he thinks perhaps they bring suitors for the Kingless Queen. Little does he know it is his own destiny arriving in those caravans. A destiny that will see him ripped from his home and all he has ever known.</p><p>*   *   *</p><p>De-Ann, a boy born no better than a slave to an unloving mother who beats her husband on the insistence that he should seed her with more daughters to plough the fields in a dry desert wasteland. Food is scarce. And a pretty boy child fetches a nice price from traveling Tradewomen who take him North. They mean to make a tribute of him to their terrible bloodthirsty god. But destiny has a different plan. And pity to those who would stand in his way, because De-Ann will not be tamed. He will be slave to no woman.<br/>He is in the god's eye, precious and beautiful.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Castiel/Dean Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>331</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>111</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. A Sliver of Light</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>There will be a few establishing chapters before we can begin to dive into the main storyline. This fic is very slow build so please bear with me. I'll try to make it worth your while. I promise I'll add any and all tags as they apply and I'll put up warnings of anything that I think of as disturbing at the beginning of each chapter.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Chapter One: A Sliver of Light</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>He felt it. The exact moment the sun appeared from behind the horizon. Like a drumbeat somewhere deep within him. Sounding briefly then vanishing.</p><p> </p><p>The position he was in was identical to the one when he’d gotten in bed the night before. He couldn’t remember even falling asleep. Only that it had come almost instantly. The flat, black sleep of the truly exhausted. Blinking himself fully awake, Castiel found he was somehow relieved that he had almost no memory of falling asleep – or anything that had happened between that moment – and waking now. Dreams are the mind’s way of dealing with every day reality. A time to come to terms with things the waking mind wouldn’t or couldn’t face.</p><p> </p><p>Or at least, that’s what his father had always said. He sighed, clawing at an errant forelock that had somehow escaped from the wrist thick braid his body servant had knotted his hair into for sleep. The motion of his hand made the many bracelets circling his slender wrist tinkle. He didn’t much care for what his dreams had been showing him recently. Darkness. Shadows. And more–than–shadows. And there were always dreams. Whether he remembered them upon waking or not, didn’t matter. In the moment between sleep and awareness he could always feel it. The frayed threads of his memory still catching on the splinters of fear.</p><p> </p><p>Too hot suddenly, he threw off the thick covers and furs he was under, pulling on the cord that opened his bed curtains and swinging his legs over the edge in one smooth motion. He reached for his slippers where they rested on top of the wooden step ladder, worming his toes into the butter soft leather trimmed in fur before stepping down from his bed and onto the thick carpets strewn over the cold stone floor. He shivered as he moved into the room. After the warmth of his bed the chill of not-quite-morning sliced clean through the spider fine silk of his night dress. Gathering his favorite shawl from the divan set in front of the fire, he draped it around his shoulders with practiced ease; feeling its familiar weight settle over his shoulders and fall about his feet. The poor thing had seen better days. Once upon a time it had been very fine. Thick wool in a luscious shade of blue, its border was shot through with gold thread and trimmed all along its edge with nearly a foot of heavy black fringe. It had originally been gifted to him for his ninth nameday by one of the noble families. It had most likely been intended for lesser public appearances.</p><p> </p><p>But Castiel’s fondness for wearing it whenever he was in his chambers – not to mention reading in front of the fire – meant it had fallen victim to countless accidental spills, snags and even the odd stray cinder singing it. To the point where it was a touch too ratty to be worn in public now. The Queen – his Mother – had roiled at him for ruining such an expensive gift, and he’d been severely punished.</p><p> </p><p>His bed chamber was in the Easternmost Tower of the Palace. And while the careful construction of all the windows and balconies allowed the maximum of light to shine in, not to mention spectacular views of the Mountains behind the Palace and the valleys below; they also allowed every inch of the icy winds to dance through his Rooms. Why he needed so much empty space when he was barely allowed to see anyone in here was beyond him. But what he lacked for in company, he certainly made up for in space. This was one of the largest private residences in the entire palace. Or so he’d been told by one of his new, serious and humorless Body servants when he’d moved in.</p><p> </p><p>‘And surely one of the ugliest.’ He remembered thinking.</p><p> </p><p>Castiel had inherited these rooms from his older brother Ezekiel once he’d come of age and set off to take his tour of the Provinces. It had been almost six months since Ezekiel had vacated, but to Castiel the rooms still felt as if they didn’t quite belong to him. Everywhere he looked the specter of his brother loomed. Not least because every inch of the place was decorated in the austere style he’d favored. The walls were painted a soft shade of blue, with birdcage stripes of white running the length of all the rooms. What furniture there was – only the most utilitarian of pieces – were all sturdy wood painted white and upholstered in silver. Ezekiel prided himself on his almost ascetic devotion to the sacred teachings. Anything too comfortable or ornamental he disavowed as frivolous - even sinful – and was quickly done away with. The paintings – mostly portraits of long dead ancestors Castiel didn’t even recognize – and tapestries adorning the walls were all done in similarly subdued shades of blue and grey.</p><p> </p><p>Castiel would’ve been perfectly content to remain in his childhood rooms in the South wing of the Palace. There’d been plenty of colors, and he’d been only a few hallways from the kitchens, and one of the lesser libraries. Not to mention that the nurseries where the younglings were cared for was only across the courtyard so there’d always been someone for him to talk to. Many of the Courtiers in the Provinces and Colonies sent their children to the Capital as wards. So at the very least he’d been able to meet a few children his own age. Then there had been the never ending supply of Servants, Godspeakers, Sacred Tutors and wet nurses. But the Queen was stalwart in her conviction that, with his thirteenth name day approaching, it was no longer appropriate for Castiel to live so close to the other children of the Palace. And just like that, he was exiled to this gloomy tower. They said it was for his protection. For his safety. Which was also the excuse for keeping him away from all his friends. And limiting his appearances in public.</p><p> </p><p>He sighed. It was ludicrous to think anyone would want to assassinate <em>him</em>. He was the Queen’s <em>seventh</em> son out of the ten children Castiel’s father had given her before his death. The Queen had three healthy daughters to brighten her name. Not to mention – insomuch as such gossip was to be believed – several offers of marriage from neighboring Queendoms. No one cared about <em>him</em>. Least of all the Queen. He’d barely seen her in the last month.</p><p> </p><p>Silently, Castiel chided himself for the way he thought about his Mothe- The Queen. He touched his gold painted fingertips to the bright blue jewel at his throat, then his forehead. Light see him. If a Godspeaker had been about. Or worse yet, one of the Queen’s Truthsayers….He shook his head. He would make an offering before the God after he’d broken his fast and beg the God to see him in its forgiving eye. </p><p> </p><p>The only real source of color in his bed chamber was the huge crest above the fire place that represented his family. He dragged his eyes up to study the image.</p><p> </p><p>A bright red Angel held a flaming sword in her right fist, and a coiling snake in her left; with her beautiful feathered wings spread wide and her hair unbound to flow free. The Angel was kneeling beneath three burning stars in a pyramid of shining golden light. The discs represented the God of course, and the pyramid represented the God’s Light shining down on them and illuminating all things. It had been hammered directly into the stone of the wall, and meticulously painted in exquisite detail. As was custom upon waking, Castiel paused in front of it. Placing his right fist in the palm of his upturned left hand below his heart, he bowed his head.</p><p> </p><p>“May the Light see me. May it keep me in its eye.” He prayed softly.</p><p> </p><p>Sniffing against the cold, Castiel rubbed his hands together as he stepped closer to the huge stone fireplace that faced his bed. The fire had burned itself out in the night, but the servants always made sure there was a small pile of logs on hand. Castiel’s habit of reading into the small hours was rather well known throughout the palace, and he’d long since taken over the duty of keeping the fire burning himself. It didn’t seem fair to make some poor servant sit up through the night just to keep him warm.</p><p> </p><p>Flinging his braid over his shoulder, he felt it slap against his lower back. He bent to arrange a few logs in the fire pit, before replacing the ornate – but unreasonably heavy – cage also wrought with his family’s crest in front of it with a grunt. He took one long step back, gathering his shawl so it was out of his way. Closing his eyes, he turned his focus inward, taking a few slow, measured breaths through his nose and out through his mouth. Raising his right hand to the logs, he gathered his will; feeling his <em>power</em> blossom in him.</p><p> </p><p>It only takes a moment, as smoke began curling off the logs; before the flames spring to life with a hiss.</p><p> </p><p>It was only a small spell. But Castiel thought Godspeaker Kufu would have approved of his technique. Castiel stood watching for a few moments more as the flames began licking at more of the logs, and satisfied that the fire wouldn’t go out again he turned and pushed open the doors that led to the balcony. Pulling the doors closed so that the fire could warm his bed chamber, he walked across the intricate mosaic of the floor to lean his weight on the stone balustrade. The morning air was fresh and clean, and so cold he felt it like a blade in his chest. He smiled; wrapping his shawl tighter around him. Mornings were his favorite time. Especially this time, before the entire Palace woke and the day would begin properly. It was the only unjudged, unobserved and unexamined time in the entire day for Castiel. As soon as the sun passed through the spire, his every moment would be dictated, scheduled and controlled for him. He pushed the thought away. Dwelling on it would do nothing to change it.</p><p> </p><p>He leaned into the breeze as it lapped at his face. And pulling his braid over his shoulder, he picked at the cord his body servant had knotted in his hair for sleep. Finally managing to dig one of his slender fingers into the knot, he pulled it free and went about freeing his hair from the very tight braid she’d made. Carding his fingers along the length as he went, he made a happy sound once the full mass of it hung over his shoulder and down his arm to carpet the stone he was leaning on.</p><p> </p><p>The capital spread out far beneath him, the streets slowly beginning to fill with people. Already the air above the city was beginning to fill with tendrils of smoke, and there was a subtle tang of spice from many cooking fires on the wind. Et Novakar was the largest, and by far the richest and most beautiful city in the entire Northern Queendom. Home to many hundreds of thousands of people, the Palace itself housed over a thousand. Built in a huge bowl shaped fissure completely enclosed by very high mountains on all sides, the city was situated over two thousand feet above the great planes to the West that eventually led to the oceans. By all accounts, it was the highest point in all of civilization. And popular legend claimed that it was the first place the Light touches each day.</p><p> </p><p>As he looked over the city, he noticed something strange. In the distance, lining the grand concourse that was one of the widest and most important streets in the entire capital; he could see riders in holding banners and footmen bearing torches. They were lining the street as far as Castiel could see. That was new. It must mean they were expecting someone. Someone important. Perhaps a party from a neighboring Province, come to court the Queen?</p><p> </p><p>He turned when he heard doors opening behind him.</p><p> </p><p>“Light see you my Lord.” A male voice said. He was a little older than Castiel if he had to guess. It was always difficult to gauge, dressed as he was in the standard brown robes of a novitiate Body servant. His hair was neatly hidden by the cap of his station, but Castiel could see only a single red godbraid hanging down his back. A clear indicator of poverty. Most likely, this boy had been sold to the Palace.</p><p> </p><p>“And you.” Castiel said automatically.</p><p> </p><p>“It is cold my Lord.” he said sounding nervous, pointedly averting his eyes. But the implication was clear. <em>Come inside</em>. <em>You shouldn’t be out here</em>.</p><p> </p><p>“It is.” Castiel said schooling his face. “I was just…appreciating the dawn.” He added by way of explanation.</p><p> </p><p>“The Light sees Et Novakar my Lord. It sees us in its Bountiful eye.” he said touching his fingers to the gold disc he wore at his throat, and then to his forehead.</p><p> </p><p>“Light see us all.” Castiel intoned automatically, gathering his shawl he walked through the door the boy was holding open for him. Once inside, he was pleased to find that the room was warming swiftly due to the fire. Three other servants in similar robes were scuttling about the room. One was pulling open all the curtains, while another was arranging Castiel’s bed clothes. The third was stoking the fire, and Castiel could smell that someone had lit incense on the altar in the sepulcher adjacent to his bed chamber.</p><p> </p><p>“Light see you My Lord.” The first one intoned as soon as he saw him, and the others quickly followed suit. All of them immediately halted what they were doing and bowed to him.</p><p> </p><p>“And you all.” Castiel said crossing the room and continuing into the Bathing Chamber beyond, grateful to close the doors behind him. His favorite body servant Tran was already in there, pouring scented oil into the huge raised pool, whispering sacred incantations to heat the water. Steam from the Boilers in the subterranean parts of the Palace – completely forbidden and unknowable to Castiel – heated the water. But Castiel liked his baths scolding. And he knew Tran could use all the practice he could get if he wanted to be ready for his Godspeaker trials come the spring.</p><p> </p><p>“Light see you Tran.” Castiel said with a smile as he seated himself in front of the smoked glass, picking up a comb and raking it along a handful of his hair.</p><p> </p><p>“And you Castiel.” Tran said back with an easy smile, shaking his godbraids off his shoulders and making the bells at the end of each one sing. They had known each other since Tran’s mother had sent him to the Capital to be schooled when Tran was seven. Castiel had been five and they had made fast friends learning their letters together. Tran hailed from the Easternmost Province of the Queendom, right at the edge of the known world. Castiel had often admired the way his eyes slanted cat-like in the typical fashion of his people; and would often try and cajole or bribe Tran into regaling him with tails of his homeland. On the rare occasions that he managed it, Castiel had savored every last word.</p><p> </p><p>For all that he was a Prince here; he had only left the Palace once in his entire life.</p><p> </p><p>“Let me do that.” Tran said appearing behind him and taking the comb from Castiel. His robes were different to the others. Black instead of brown and he wore no cap. Instead he wore a draping jilee that allowed the disc shaped necklace all Body servants wore as a part of their uniform, to kiss the skin of his chest. Though Tran was stripped to the waist now to help Castiel bathe, allowing the sacred spells tattooed on his chest and arms to be seen.</p><p> </p><p>As he let Tran comb through his hair handful by handful, Castiel stared at his reflection. Large, blue eyes framed by long, thick lashes, set beneath slender, arching brows. His chiseled nose sat between sculpted cheekbones hovering above a jaw line that still retained some of the softness of youth. He saw very little of the Queen in his features. But he’d heard all his life how closely he resembled his Father, who had been considered a great beauty in life.</p><p> </p><p>“The Light sees you Castiel. It sees you in its beautiful eye.” Tran said meeting his eyes in the mirror. It was odd to hear the blessing from Tran, who didn’t usually bother with such formalities. Castiel smiled, looking down at his lap. He’d never been comfortable with people speaking about him in such a way. He sighed as Tran teased his fingers along the length of Castiel’s hair, looking at it with almost awe. It was a mark of his royal Blood that Castiel wore his hair unbound and not in the customary godbraids most citizens of Et Novakar adopted. And to show off this privilege most members of the Royal Bloodline grew their hair very long. Castiel’s sister Anna’s reached all the way to her knees. His own currently brushed the small of his back; and tickled his buttocks when he stood naked.</p><p> </p><p>“Did you see the Bannermen on the Concourse?” Castiel asked. “That they’re standing guard means the Gates are open.”</p><p> </p><p>“I did.” Tran said in that annoying way of his. As if he knew oh so much more than he was saying.</p><p> </p><p>“And?” Castiel pressed. “Do we know what’s going on?”</p><p> </p><p>“I may have heard a rumor when I was down in the Kitchens earlier.” Tran said conspiratorially, still brushing away. “Big hullabaloo. They were cooking up a storm. A proper feast from what I could tell. I saw a dessert with sugar dates. Looked delicious.”</p><p> </p><p>“A feast?” Castiel asked. “For whom? Does anyone know?”</p><p> </p><p>“I do so love sugar dates. One hardly ever sees them this time of year.” Tran continued smoothly as if Castiel hadn’t spoken at all. Another one of his annoying habits. Clearly Tran was not feeling generous this morning.</p><p> </p><p>He huffed a sigh through his nose. “Tran….I find I’m having a sudden craving for sugar dates. Would you mind please having one of the others retrieve a bowl of them for me?” he said flatly.</p><p> </p><p>“Of course my Lord.” Tran said with a grave nod, his voice practically dripping with humility. “Shall I add a bottle of that Verneese wine you like? Dates can be so cloying.”</p><p> </p><p>“Please do. I’ve just realized I have a thirst as well.” Castiel added glaring at Tran in the mirror. “Now tell me what you’ve heard before I develop any other cravings and hang you for a thief.”</p><p> </p><p>Tran smiled at him in the mirror, looking endless pleased with himself. He trotted over to the door to dispatch “Castiel’s” order with one of the other Body Servants; before closing the doors tightly behind him.</p><p> </p><p>“Come on then.” Tran said nodding over his shoulder at the bath. Getting up, Castiel let Tran undo the laces behind his neck, shrugging out of the thin nightdress and stepping out of it, before walking naked across the room and stepping into the bath. The steaming water sang across his skin, and Castiel sank below the surface to soak himself properly. He heard the small splash as Tran joined him in the bath. He languished in the water for a few moments before standing up; shaking his waterlogged hair out of his face.</p><p> </p><p>“I heard the Gates were opened in the night. A delegation from the Southern Isles. A big one too.” Tran said.</p><p> </p><p>“Why are they here?” Castiel asked. “And why arrive under cover of night?”</p><p> </p><p>“That I do not know. But rumor has it the Queen has canceled all her engagements for the next three days. And she’s ordered all the fireplaces and torches lit in the Crystal Keep.” Tran continued.</p><p> </p><p>“Interesting.” Castiel said to himself. The Crystal Keep was a small wing of the Palace that had been built by Castiel’s great grandmother as a gift to her child husband on their betrothal. Artisans had been brought in from across the land, and a massive cavern had been excavated right into the Mountain behind the Palace in order to provide the raw materials for all the glass they’d needed.</p><p> </p><p>The result was beautiful. But even to this day it was known throughout the lands as one of the most extravagant – and expensive – gifts of all time. That the Queen was hosting this delegation there sent a specific message. For some reason, she wanted to impress this party. Whoever they were, she wanted to make sure they knew the wealth and power of her Blood.</p><p> </p><p>“Mm hmm.” Tran said. It was a noise Castiel hated. It meant Tran knew more, but wasn’t telling.</p><p> </p><p>“You know something.” Castiel said. “Tell me.”</p><p> </p><p>“I am but a simple Body Servant.” Tran said filling a bowl with water and pouring it over Castiel’s head.</p><p> </p><p>“A simple Body Servant who knows when one the Courtiers didn’t clean their teeth in the morning.” Castiel said thickly, pushing a swath of hair out of his face. “Now tell me. Or I’ll have you flogged and flayed.”</p><p> </p><p>“Rumor has it we can be expecting more delegations in the coming months.” Tran said. “I heard some of the Servants whispering. The delegation is too small for a War Council. But apparently, several artists number among the new arrivals.”</p><p> </p><p>“Artists.” Castiel repeated pondering the possibilities. Then his face lit up. “They’re here to paint the Queen’s portrait. To take back to the Southern Isles. The Queen is looking for a husband.”</p><p> </p><p>“Possibly.” Tran said with a shrug. He raised his arms so that Tran could begin systematically scrubbing him with a soft sponge, fighting not to laugh when Tran deliberately dug his fingers into his ribs.</p><p> </p><p>“Stop that.” He ordered still laughing.</p><p> </p><p>“As you command my lord.” Tran said bowing his head in dramatic supplication.</p><p> </p><p>Castiel rolled his eyes. “Light blind you.” He said and they both chuckled.</p><p> </p><p>“Someone’s in a mood.” Tran said looking up at him. “Did you sleep peacefully?”</p><p> </p><p>“I slept like the dead.” Castiel admitted.</p><p> </p><p>“The dreams again?” Tran asked seriously, his dark eyes looking concerned. He was the only person in the Palace Castiel trusted enough to have told about his nightmares. Castiel considered brushing off the question with a lie. But it was weighing on him.</p><p> </p><p>“I can’t explain it.” He admitted. “I have such a….profound feeling of….<em>dread</em>. Like something’s coming. Something horrible.”</p><p> </p><p>“What?” Tran asked, massaging Castiel’s bicep.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not certain.” Castiel said. “In my dreams, I see….”</p><p> </p><p>“Tell me.” Tran said.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know how.” Castiel admitted. “I dream of blood. Running like rivers in the streets. Ash choking the air in my throat. The Light hidden behind a mountain of the dead.”</p><p> </p><p>“And have you seen it again?” Tran asked. Castiel shivered.</p><p> </p><p>“No.” he said quickly. “The Light see me. No.”</p><p> </p><p>Tran was referring to the worst of the nightmares that Castiel had had. Roughly a month ago during the solstice. Castiel had woken screaming in the night. Godspeaker Kufu had been summoned and given him a sleeping draft, dismissing his dreams as being the result of too many sweet cakes at dinner. But Castiel knew it was more than that. </p><p> </p><p>The stench of decaying flesh. The languid, arrhythmic pulsing of a corpse filled with maggots. The taste of rotten milk mixed with the texture of spoiled fruit. All these elements combined into something he could actually <em>see</em>.</p><p> </p><p>His <em>eyes</em> had experienced those things.</p><p> </p><p>All at once and all in excruciating detail. A stomach churning, nightmare inducing mass, blazing like a beacon in his mind. And somewhere on the vague outskirts of his perception, Castiel realized it was <em>alive</em>. Through all the confusion and terror and mind splitting pain, he could make out a physical form; but it had been like trying to peer through raw sewage. He couldn’t actually make out any details through the haze of absolute <em>wrongness</em> that had surrounded the thing.</p><p> </p><p>"Have you considered speaking to Godspeaker Kufu again? Perhaps he can offer some insight." Tran suggested.</p><p> </p><p>"No." Castiel said dismissively. Godspeaker Kufu was not a kind sort. He was only ever looking for sin to stone. And even if through some miracle he did believe Castiel's dreams were more than just dreams. What could he do? And besides. He was the Queen’s creature through and through. He would waste no time relating anything he believed to the Queen. And Castiel did not even want to think about what she would decide was an appropriate course of action for him. No far better to just leave things as they are.</p><p> </p><p>Looking away, Castiel caught sight of himself in the mirror. His skin was milk white. And naked as he was now, his own sacred tattoos seemed almost to gleam. Unlike Tran’s which were deep indigo, Castiel’s – like all of his Blood – were gold. The beautiful looping script of the Sacred Spells ran from his right wrist, all the way up his arm, over his shoulder and down his right side to settle on his hip; before curling down his leg and ending around his ankle. With only twelve namedays behind him, the design was nowhere near complete. But Castiel liked the way the tattoos looked on his skin.</p><p> </p><p>He had always been lean, but recently his body had taken on a strange, Coltish quality. And he was not yet accustomed to his ever increasing height. Only last month the Palace tailors had wept at having to remake nearly all his clothes. Nothing fit him anymore. His feet were too large and his elbows seemed to constantly bump into everything. His sisters and Tran had all assured him this was the natural way. They said he was blossoming. But to Castiel it seemed a strange description for…this. His body did not feel like his own. The hair on his arms and legs had grown thicker. But it seemed as if every day there was more hair to be found in the strangest places. Thin tufts of it had appeared on his chest, beneath his arms and even his chin. Not to mention above his cock. Which was another story altogether.</p><p> </p><p>Obediently, Castiel let himself be leaned against the side of the tub so Tran could wash his legs and feet. Tran washed his stomach, trailing the sponge through the new patch of hair above his cock before and abandoning the sponge; taking Castiel’s cock in hand and pulling back his foreskin to wash him. Castiel twitched uncomfortably as he felt his cock thicken without warning.</p><p> </p><p>“Tran. I am sorry.” He said shyly, angling his hips away from Trans fingers.</p><p> </p><p>“Only natural.” Tran said with a knowing smile. “The Light sees you Castiel. It sees you in its growing eye. You’re becoming a man.” He continued. To Castiel’s surprise, he didn’t remove his hand. Rather he expertly played his fingertips around the head of Castiel’s cock making him shiver. More blood rushed to his cock, suddenly very interested in the attention it was getting.</p><p> </p><p>“Tran I….” Castiel said shakily.</p><p> </p><p>“Relax. It’s alright. Your body is changing. Let me show you.” Tran purred, stepping closer so Castiel could feel his own cock against his hip.</p><p> </p><p>“I..I don’t think….” Castiel stuttered.</p><p> </p><p>“It is normal for Body Servants to do this for their masters. It will help you relax.” Tran said manipulating Castiel’s foreskin with a firm but gentle grip, pressing the pad of his thumb to Castiel’s slit in a way that made his legs buckle. Tran brought up his other hand, drawing the warm sponge over Castiel’s chest and teasing his thumb over one pebbled nipple. This solicited an involuntary moan from Castiel.</p><p> </p><p>He felt too hot. Too sensitive. Too everything. Abruptly, he stepped away, prying Tran’s hands off him.</p><p> </p><p>“I think I’m clean enough.” He said turning with a splash and stepping out of the water.</p><p> </p><p>“As you wish.” Tran said with a shrug, following him out of the tub.</p><p> </p><p>Castiel let himself be wrapped up in thick towels, sitting down in front of the mirror to allow Tran to scrub a smaller towel along his hair. His cock took longer to deflate than he would have liked, but there was little Castiel could do about that.</p><p> </p><p>The next minutes pass as Tran and the other Body Servants open various drawers and cupboards and begin laying out all manner of paints, oils and things to help Castiel dress for the day. Though he noticed that there were considerably more things being laid today than he was used to. He was about to inquire when Tran presented a tray with a heavy roll of parchment on it. The wax seal had been broken, but Castiel recognized the Queen’s seal immediately.</p><p> </p><p>“You’ve been summoned.” Tran said. Castiel suppressed a shudder. Not good.</p><p> </p><p>“Does it….Did the letter mention why?” Castiel asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Only that we are to make sure you are properly attired.” Tran said. He kept his tone measured, and his words had obviously been chosen carefully in front of the other Body Servants; but Castiel caught his meaning. Whatever lofty wording the letter bore, the Queen wanted him to look pretty.</p><p> </p><p>Castiel felt his sense of dread returning keenly, wondering if Tran knew something else. And if that was what had prompted him to try and help Castiel….relax.</p><p> </p><p>But this time, he had no interest in pressing him for information.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. A Touch of Night</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The second introductory Chapter focused on Castiel alone. I swear we'll meet Dean soon!!!! But at least we meet two other - mostly - familiar faces this Chapter.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Chapter Two: A Touch of Night</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Castiel stood on a stool in his dressing rooms, fighting to maintain his balance in the elevated heels of the boots one of the Body Servants was lacing him into. He gripped Tran’s fist harder, finding the position awkward, with his weight on his back leg and the other wedged against the chest of the Body Servant doing up his boots. He winced as the dark black suede was pulled tighter around his thigh; cursing – not for the first time – the process it was of getting him ready for a formal audience with the Queen.</p><p> </p><p>After he’d finished bathing, his hair had been wrapped in a towel so the Mima – a more senior Body Servant trained in the art of body painting – could get started on his face, while Tran and two of the other Body Servants could work on his hands. The Mima who arrived was an austere looking man old enough to be Castiel’s grandfather. He had a plain featured face – to which he’d expertly applied paints in vivid hues - with downturned lips, and a full head of graying god braids that reached almost to his waist. He walked bearing a heavy chest that held the tools of his trade. His robes were Oyster silk, shot through with silver thread and embroidered with Castiel’s Blood Crest at the hem and sleeves. The expense of his uniform was a mark of his status. Like Tran, he was one of the few Body Servants in the Palace whom were permitted physical contact with the Queen and her Blood.</p><p> </p><p>“Light see you m’Lord.” The Mima grated out.</p><p> </p><p>“And you.” Castiel said softly.</p><p> </p><p>Castiel had sat with closed eyes while the Mima slathered a thick layer of white chalk paste over his shoulders, neck and entire face. He usually tried to avoid opening his eyes while the Mima worked. He hated seeing all his features erased like some kind of ghost. Once the paste had dried sufficiently, Castiel bit the inside of his own cheek to keep from making any noise as the Mima went to work sweeping most of it off with a hard haired brush; leaving his skin looking as pale as snow in moonlight. Next were his eyes. Working with a variety of brushes – some no larger than the nail on his baby toes – the Mima meticulously set about painting his eyes elaborately in shades of blue and gold that stretched even over his temples and the very tops of his ears. His eyebrows were painstakingly repainted with charcoal amidst the golden corona painted on his forehead. To Castiel this was patently ludicrous. He had eyebrows of his own. What was the point of covering them in white only to paint them back on? But he’d gotten better at sitting still. This was his third time having a Mima ply his craft on Castiel’s face. The first had been for the Harvest Festival the year before. Next had been for Ezekiel’s presentation ball. And he knew as his nameday approached he’d best accustom himself to the process.</p><p> </p><p>Finally, the Mima moved on to his lips, applying a layer of gold. His final touch was to add a line of midnight blue about an inch wide, running from Castiel’s chin down his throat.</p><p> </p><p>When he heard the Mima packing away his paints, Castiel opened his eyes for the first time. As had been the case before, he found he was jointly awestruck and horrified by the Mima’s handiwork. He looked nothing like at all himself. But even Castiel had to admit. The stranger who had taken in his place in the mirror was….stunning.</p><p> </p><p>He almost reached up to touch his own face, but his hand paused mid way. Any damage to the Mima’s creation and he’d have to suffer through the entire process again. Not to mention he couldn’t <em>really</em> touch anything at the moment. As was customary, Castiel’s arms had also been covered in the heavy chalk paste all the way up to his elbows. Next his hands were covered in a thin layer of gold dust all the way to his wrist. It was meant to mimic a body being bathed in light. But to Castiel it was an endless annoyance. Until he could wash it off, he’d leave golden marks on everything he touched. Not to mention that it would be almost impossible for him to eat, or drink anything at all.</p><p> </p><p>His hair had been pulled back from his face severely, his forelocks coiled and braided before being secured with elaborately carved Tortoise shell and Ivory combs. The rest of his hair was scented with incense, brushed until it shined and left to hang in a poker straight curtain of silk down his back. He tried to ignore his earlobes, which were already beginning to ache from the heavy gold discs hanging off them. More jewelry had followed. His nameday bracelets – six to each arm – had been smithied directly onto his arm, so he could never remove them. But two large golden cuffs had been added at each of his wrists. Around his neck, his customary blue jewel hung atop a dramatic golden collar. It lay over his clavicles – which seemed to point out almost luridly – the pallor of his naked shoulders. His fingers were thick with rings, and he decided it was just as well he couldn’t eat anything. He’d never be able to manage cutlery. </p><p> </p><p>The raiment laid out for him was an altogether different event to put on. The short smock he’d donned after his bath did nothing to protect his legs from the cold. And being unable to touch anything, he’d nearly toppled over when Tran helped him into his stockings. The next minutes passed in grunting and wincing agony as Castiel was laced into a stomacher that squeezed his chest and waist like a fist. Finally Tran laced him into his leather leggings. Moon white, they hugged his hips like a jealous lover; but at least they were warm. Next was his night black silk shirt – the neckline cut to leave his shoulders bare – with its enormous sleeves. Against the backdrop of dark fabric and framed by his deep brown hair, the effect of Castiel’s skin is like a candle burning with a cold, clear flame.</p><p> </p><p>The outer gown was a gorgeous confection of heavy golden brocade that trailed a full four feet on the ground behind him as he walked. Maneuvering it over his shoulders like a vest, Castiel stood like a human mannequin while they pulled and tucked and laced until he was deemed ready. The final effect was truly something to behold. Castiel thought he looked older and altogether otherwordly. And it was strange seeing his body in these clothes. His legs looked very long in the boots that stretched up over his knees, shown off perfectly by the divided skirts of the gown. His waist looked impossibly small hovering between the voluminous sleeves. He turned this way and that, admiring the way…..</p><p> </p><p>“Come along then!” a female voice called loudly from the outermost room of his chambers. He recognized it instantly and all but leapt to the door. “You ain’t no use to no one standing there gawking at yourself.”</p><p> </p><p>“Johdilia!” Castiel called happily moving as fast as he dared in the elevated heels of his boots.</p><p> </p><p>Her entire face lit up with her habitual smirk when she saw him. And Castiel could’ve kissed her. Johdilia’s mother was one of the Queen’s oldest and most trusted friends. They’d been girls together in the Outer regions and had fought together in the last Great War. As the story went El-Ahn had saved the Queen’s life, and she’d never forgotten it. After the War, the Queen had arranged a handsome husband for El-Ahn and swiftly appointed her Warden over the Eastern Reach. It had come as no surprise when Johdilia had sailed through the ranks of the military. By fifteen she was one of the best Swordswomen at the Academy. And after her two year placement in the Western lands she was one of the youngest women ever, to join the ranks of the Queen’s personal Honor Guard; the elitist force of the Et-Novakarian military.</p><p> </p><p>Castiel had known and loved her since he was a boy. A semi-permanent fixture in his early life, she’d always had infinite time for him and all his silly little projects and passions, and had always brought him the best gifts from her travels. Johdilia had also been a source of real comfort and compassion to him after the death of his Father. Having lost her own to a war party when she was a girl; she’d understood Castiel’s grief in a way that no one else ever had. But as he’d grown older; her duties to the Queen had frequently taken her out of the Capital and to the far flung regions of the Queendom and Castiel hadn’t seen her in over a year.</p><p> </p><p>“Hello sprout.” She said warmly, her armor clanking as she stepped forward to greet him. Castiel fought the urge to greet her with his habitual kiss on the cheek, but he let himself be thoroughly hugged. Impulsively she even picked him up off the floor and bobbed him up and down. He was rather a bit shorter than her, but at least in the boot heels the distance was a little decreased.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re brown as a bean!” Castiel chuckled once she set him down, the discs at his ears slapping against his face.</p><p> </p><p>“Perils of spending me days outside I’m afraid.” Johdilia said with a jaunty wink.</p><p> </p><p>He smiled up at her. Johdilia had never been anyone’s idea of a beauty. She was tall even for a woman which leant her body a certain gangliness no amount of muscle would ever obscure. Her nose had been broken at least twice, and too much time exposed to the elements had added a permanent blush and coarseness to her skin. But she had a nice smile, kind eyes and her plain, open features were etched with her good humor. Her straw colored godbraids – shaved on the sides of her head in the fashion of Archers – had been tied in a club at the base of her neck. Castiel chuckled. Johdilia had never taken to wearing her hair long, and would frequently slice them off with her sword and burn them as an offering.</p><p> </p><p>“Light see you Joh.” Castiel said amicably, noticing her gaze drifting over him a few times as she took in the sight of him.</p><p> </p><p>“And <em>you</em>.” She said lifting her eyebrow appreciatively.</p><p> </p><p>“Well?” Castiel said grabbing two handfuls of his skirts and turning on the spot.</p><p> </p><p>“You look <em>ridiculous</em> in that dress.” She said scrunching up her face. Castiel rolled his eyes. “Absolutely absurd. Honestly Castiel, is this really the best you could make of yourself for the occasion?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh pfft.” Ha answered her, accepting the arm she offered and looping his arm through. “Light blind you. Do you have any idea how long it took to get me like this?”</p><p> </p><p>“Nice talk.” Joh said chuckling. “And here I was expecting to be escorting a proper little Gentleman today. Ain’t you supposed to be a bit more refined?”</p><p> </p><p>“Only when I’m in the company of Ladies. Not some salty old war dog like you.” Castiel answered smoothly, unable to keep a chuckle from escaping him. “Did you even bother to change your clothes Nunun? You stink of the road.”</p><p> </p><p>“I washed me face and hands before I cum, now didn’t I?” She said easily and they both smiled.</p><p> </p><p>“When did you get in?” he asked as she led him down the portrait gallery that led to the East Bartizan. The hilt of Joh’s broadsword knocked against her leg bracers ever so often, and her armor clinked as they walked. “Last I heard you were in….I forget. Portston?”</p><p> </p><p>“Portstown. Yes. You mother sent me to deal with a small situation regarding trade routes through the Anvil. We was setting up a new outpost along the Drag, but then I was summoned back to babysit these here Southerners on their way to the Capital innit? Got in last night.” She explained but her face looked hard for a moment.</p><p> </p><p>Castiel nodded. The Anvil – as the Bengaresh Desert was colloquially referred to – was an expansive sand and stone desert just beyond the Teeth, that made up their Eastern Border. Its’ soaring temperatures and nigh uninhabitable environment made it an excellent natural defense. The bountiful Eastern territories beyond the Anvil were some of the largest and by far the wildest of all those regions under the command of Et-Novakar. The only problem was the Anvil had never been accurately plotted on any map. It was simply too large and too dangerous. Over the span of generations, countless expeditions had been sent to explore the lands beyond the desert. And all of them had vanished without a trace. The most recent had been only twenty five winters before, and had claimed one of Castiel’s Aunts along with an entire Legion of Et-Novakarian soldiers.</p><p> </p><p>Unfortunately, the Anvil was also an important trade. Two hundred years before, when Castiel’s Ancestor had conquered the <em>then</em> ungoverned Eastern Territories, a great road had been established. Just skirting the deeper desert, goods from the Far flung colonies and even Et-Novakar’s neighboring Queendoms could be transported much faster than if they’d had to be sent by ship. But while this road formed a great arterial of trade and industry, it was one of the most perilous stretches in the entire Queendom. Subject to constant raids, bandits and hunting parties; the road – known colloquially as the Drag – required constant vigilance and oversight from the Capital.</p><p> </p><p>“So?” Castiel began. “What can you tell me of the outside world?”</p><p> </p><p>“Messy as ever I’m afraid.” She said with a smirk that betrayed nothing. “Not like home.” She added, looking out the window almost wistfully. Castiel smiled. It was a curious thing to imagine, <em>missing</em> someplace. The Palace was all he’d ever known. The idea of longing for it was a strange one. But Castiel knew how much Johdilia loved their homeland, so he didn’t voice the thought.</p><p> </p><p>“What’s it like? Out there?” he asked softly. “Is it terrible and uncivilized?”</p><p> </p><p>“Sum places. And in sum places, it’s glorious.” Joh said smoothly.</p><p> </p><p>“Did you like it? In Portstown?” Castiel asked, having to place his feet carefully as they rounded the stairs.</p><p> </p><p>“I liked it alright. Bit dusty. The ale was good. Plenty of brown skinned boys in the Taverns looking t’have a bit of a cuddle.” She added, sticking her tongue out and smiling wickedly as Castiel made to draw his arm free with a huff. Joh’s laugh echoed off the walls. In response Castiel drove his elbow into her breastplate, soliciting another chuckle.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s not what I mean. Tell me something. Something true.” Castiel said.</p><p> </p><p>“S’true. I tell ya. There’s nothin’ like a Royal seal and a few war stories told over th’bar to get…..”<br/> Joh said waggling her eyebrows suggestively. At this Castiel stopped walking. Joh laughed again, but this time there was no real zeal behind it.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, yes. You fucked all the Tavern boys bow legged between here and the Southern Peninsula. And Light find you, you’ll be blessed with a healthy daughter to make your flame burn bright.” Castiel said in a humorless monotone. He could hear the annoyance in his voice but he didn’t care.</p><p> </p><p>“Whoah!” Johdilia said stepping back and putting up her hands in a conciliatory gesture. “Where’d that come from?”</p><p> </p><p>“I haven’t seen you in forever. You vanish like smoke to some plot point on the map. No proper goodbye. No letters. Now you just come waltzing into my chambers as if you never left. I’m trying to have a conversation with you and all you want to do is joke. And not even a good joke. The kind of base drek I can get from any stable girl.” Castiel said shrugging his hair off his shoulders.</p><p> </p><p>“Forgive me.” Johdilia said sincerely. “I’m sorry. <em>Truly</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>When Castiel didn’t speak Johdilia fell to her knees, pushing out her bottom lip and looking up at him with a pathetic expression. “Come oooooooooon Sprout. Have mercy on your poor old Nunun what missed ya.”</p><p> </p><p>Castiel stared at her, working hard not to crack a grin but managing it. “Go on then. Show us a smile. Just one little smile just for me.” Joh said inching forward on her knee, bringing up her hands and panting like a puppy. At this Castiel had to grin. Joh smiled victoriously. “Almost there. Show us them teeth. Them pretty highborn teeth all proper and nice…..” she egged him on.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh all right.” Castiel chuckled, flapping his hands as if waving off a fly. “And get up! You look ridiculous down there.”</p><p> </p><p>At this Joh’s face split in half as she smiled, pushing off with her fist on one knee to resume their walk. “Light blind me Cassie. When did you learn to start talking like a proper man?” she asked as if she found the idea hilarious. “Niggled me like a right grown fish husband you did.”</p><p> </p><p>“I suppose it was bound to happen eventually Nunun.” Castiel said breathily. “<em>Nunun</em>? Why did I start calling you that?”</p><p> </p><p>“No idea. You was nine at the time and <em>disinclined</em> to discuss your reasoning.” she said, over articulating the word to drive the point home. Joh was very educated for a Knight. And despite her insistence to retain the accent of her native Haravelle; she could on occasion summon a proper Novaki vocabulary.</p><p> </p><p>“What was the situation in Portstown?” Castiel asked quickly. When Joh started groaning he forged on before she could dismiss him. “Why are the Southerners here? And why did the Queen summon you all the way back? Is the entire Honor Guard coming? Why does she need them here?”</p><p> </p><p>“Light find me boy. Do you always ask this many questions?” she said loudly.</p><p> </p><p>“Only when I don’t get answers.” Castiel said sweetly. “No one ever tells me anything about anything.”</p><p> </p><p>“Did it ever occur to you that maybe there ain’t nuffin to tell.” Joh said simply. Castiel sighed.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s not true and you know it. What you mean is….nothing worth telling me.” He said. There was no emotion in his voice, but he could feel Johdilia unbend a little next to him.</p><p> </p><p>“I can tell you, that on the way here, I spotted two full caravans laden with silks, and furs. And pretty beads for your hair. Your mum’ll have no use for all those gifts.” Johdilia began, speaking as if she expected Castiel to be very excited about the things she mentioned. “And I even managed to sneak you a few books from Portstown what I thought you might like. But you can’t tell no one you’ve got them, and you really can’t tell no one you got them from me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Really?” Castiel asked curious, cracking a genuine smile. “What are they?”</p><p> </p><p>“I happen to have laid hands on, the personal journals of one Captain Anne Bonny.” Joh said with a wide grin at the way Castiel’s eyes lit up.</p><p> </p><p>“Black Anne?” he asked incredulously. “The pirate?”</p><p> </p><p>“And just what would a nice Highborn gentleman like you be knowing about Black Anne?” Joh asked looking amused.</p><p> </p><p>“Please. She was the Captain of the Libertine. In the twenty years she managed to evade the stockade, she and her crew murdered, pillaged and raped a bloody swath from the Narrow Sea all the way to the Southern Isles….” Castiel trailed off. “Did you really find her journals?” he asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Missed your nameday didn’t I?” Joh said with a shrug. “Had to do something to make it up to you innit? I’ll bring em to your Chambers later. But for now……you have your duties. And I have mine. Lieutenant.”</p><p> </p><p>This last was addressed to a sallow faced woman who headed up Castiel’s personal retinue of Guards for the day. The visor of her helmet was pulled up only long enough acknowledge Johdilia with a curt nod, before she flicked it down and motioned for Castiel to walk on.</p><p> </p><p>“Light see you My Lord.” She said.</p><p> </p><p>“And you Lieutenant…?” Castiel asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Tessa if it please you.” She said, though her tone brooked no further response as she lead the way.</p><p> </p><p>Castiel sighed as he fell into place behind her, hearing two other guards flanking him as he walked. He’d gotten so engrossed talking to Johdilia, that he’d barely noticed they had made their way all the way from his tower and he was almost at the great quadrangle that connected the East Wing of the Palace with the Central Spire. He tried to keep Joh in his eye line as she jogged across the gravel to Light knows where. Now that he was alone again the feeling of dread returned, coiling in his stomach. He took as deep a breath as his costume allowed, before squaring his shoulders as they continued further around the corner. The Guards lining the Quadrangle acknowledged his presence by tapping their Spears on the stones as he passed. If he’d had to stop and bless each one he’d never make it to the great stone arch in front of him. Hundreds of years ago, it had been one of the main Barbicans. But as the Palace had expanded around it, it just formed a weigh point now between the East Wing and the Main body of the Palace.</p><p> </p><p>“May the Light find me. May it keep it keep me in its Eye.” He intoned softly to himself as he walked.</p><p> </p><p>Slowly the Huge Square structure of the Keep came into view across several courtyards. It was strange seeing the Palace so alive with activity. More Guards than he was used to could be seen patrolling the paths, and everywhere he looked all manner of slaves and Servants were rushing about. Here and there he could even see a few Godspeakers barking orders or walking quickly. It was obvious that something was <em>happening</em>, but Castiel had no idea what. He turned sharply to a tiny arch set between two Bastions almost as in the crack of a door. As a member of the Queen’s Blood, he needed to make his way to the Keep unseen. The Lieutenant banged her fist on the door twice and it was opened from the inside.</p><p> </p><p>“Castiel!” he heard a voice call out as soon as he was inside. Castiel looked to see his favorite brother waving at him from across the room.</p><p> </p><p>“Light see you Gabriel.” Castiel said as Gabriel came trotting over in a whirl of fabric, his heels clicking smartly on the stone floor. Unlike Castiel, Gabriel relished any opportunity to bedeck himself in finery. And he had to concede, Gabriel wore it oh so well. Today he was a vision in a gown of bright blue and Purple. His Mima had done a masterful job painting his face to resemble an Orchid in bloom, and to carry the theme home Gabriel opted for an elaborate headdress with two great white fan shaped petals – studded with beads and pearls – framing his head on either side. His golden hair was oiled and draped in a wealth over curls over his left shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>They paused approximately three feet from one another and greeted each other in the custom of the Blood when they were in public. Holding out their hands – left palm up, right palm down – and approached each other until their corresponding hands were above and below one another’s. They stood like that for the space of a breath, before Castiel felt the jewel at his throat pulse; even as he saw an identical jewel at Gabriel’s throat glow with <em>power</em>.</p><p> </p><p>“May the Light find you and See you always. May it keep you in its Protective Eye.” The intoned together.</p><p> </p><p>That done, they broke apart. And Gabriel wasted no time falling in next to him.</p><p> </p><p>“Light see <em>you</em>.” Gabriel said appreciatively. “You look beautiful little leaf. Gold suits you, you know? I love your face. Bit severe. But then I suppose that’s just as well.” He continued, speaking as if Castiel were a trinket in the market he was thinking of buying, but only <em>after</em> analyzing it first.</p><p> </p><p>“You and I both know I had nothing to with any of this.” Castiel said morosely gesturing to himself.</p><p> </p><p>“Well that’ll change soon enough. After your nameday celebrations you’ll be able to choose your own Body Servants. You’ll be assigned your own Mima and you’ll be outfitted with an entirely new wardrobe. And the timing couldn’t be better.” Gabriel said excitedly. “I heard this…delegation….” He said the word as if he couldn’t be bothered to remember what it was called. “….brought several caravans of tribute from the Southern Isles!” he collapsed into a fit of giggles.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve spoken to Nerissa. She told me she’d let me have first choice.” Gabriel whispered as if this was juiciest of gossip. Castiel rolled his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“I can hardly imagine as Captain of the Guard, our dear Sister cares overmuch who rummages through the coffers, or in what order.” He said. Though it was pointless. Gabriel had always been excitable about these things.</p><p> </p><p>“I shan’t have a repeat of what happened the last time we had a tribute sent to the Palace. By the time Amenadiel got through selecting his thrice cursed Groom’s Trussaud there was barely anything left.” Gabriel said scandalized.</p><p> </p><p>“To be fair, the tributes were for <em>his</em> wedding.” Castiel suggested.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh bah! Light blind his wedding! And may it burn him to crisp. I was forced to wear <em>green</em>. Two days my Mima and I labored and I still looked like Amenadiel’s fat, short brother destined to be a <em>bachelor</em>.” Gabriel spat the word. Castiel didn’t respond. He’d been barely 3 three years old when Amenadiel had married, and Gabriel all of 9.</p><p> </p><p>“The color green made you short?” Castiel said unable to keep from smiling at the look of conjoined horror and amusement Gabriel shot him.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re no fun today. Did something happen?” Gabriel asked, pink and golden features twisting into a look of concern.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes Gabriel. We’ve been summoned because a Delegation has arrived from the Southern Isles. Don’t you want to know why they’re here?” Castiel asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Well we’re going to the Keep to find <em>out</em> why.” Gabriel said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Honestly brother. The way that head of yours works sometimes.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re not even the slightest bit curious?” Castiel asked.</p><p> </p><p>“About why our Mother wants to spend the next week flexing her muscles and pounding on her chest and parading her beautiful sons in front of the some Envoy from Et-Nieveswhyte? Honestly? No. I can honestly say I’m not.”</p><p> </p><p>“An Envoy? From Et-Nieveswhyte?” Castiel said to himself trying to picture the map on the wall of his study rooms in his mind.</p><p> </p><p>“Why are you repeating everything I say?” Gabriel asked but Castiel ignored him. Et-Nieveswhyte was the stronghold of Queen Kaia herself. And while the Southern Isles had been colonized by Et-Novakar in the time of Castiel’s thrice Great Grandmother, their rulers had always rankled at Novaki control. Castiel was beginning to warm to his theory about the Queen looking for a husband. If they were putting forth a suitor to better relations between the two Nations, it made political sense for the Queen to put on a show.</p><p> </p><p>“Castiel!” he heard Gabriel say next to him.</p><p> </p><p>“Hmm?” he asked.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s time. You have to take your place in the procession.” Gabriel said earnestly as a Body Servant rearranged his skirts and another helped disentangle an earring which had become caught in his hair.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh. Of course.” Castiel said turning to where Lieutenant Tessa and his own team of Body Servants – including Tran – stood decked out in their finest robes.</p><p> </p><p>“Honestly Cassie. Perhaps you should spend a bit less time with your nose buried in those infernal books of yours; and a bit more learning about life.” Gabriel said through pursed lips as he dabbed more gold dust onto his lips.</p><p> </p><p>The absurdity of the statement made Castiel chuckle. But that was Gabriel. And Castiel loved him dearly.</p><p> </p><p>“Find me after.” Gabriel said turning away. And Castiel moved to the back of the room.</p><p> </p><p>Through the heavy Oak doors, he could hear silver trumpets begin to sound.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Child with no Name</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The introduction of a certain green eyed character we all know and lust. Not yet though. Ew. He's like......twelve. Ha ha!</p><p>This chapter isn't very long. But the next one will be longer.</p><p>WARNING!!!!! THERE IS DESCRIPTION OF SOME VIOLENCE AGAINST ANIMALS IN THIS CHAPTER. JUST A LITTLE. BUT I THOUGHT I'D MENTION IT.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Notes: Some important explanations about this chapter.</p><p>1.	Sam is mentioned but not named for reasons that will become obvious. It is important to mention that for the purposes of this story, Sam is OLDER than Dean. He will feature at some point. You guys will have to wait a while though. Sorry.<br/>2.	We all know who Dean’s parents are. But just in case anyone is unclear: The Woman is Mary and the Man is John. Yes there is massive canon divergence. Unavoidable. Sorry guys. I love Mary too.<br/>3.	In case you missed the warnings I will reiterate. There is brief, but graphic description of violence against animals in this Chapter. I’m afraid it really is essential. I’m the world’s biggest animal lover. I do not in any condone any ill treatment of animals ever!!!!!!<br/>4.	There is a scene in this Chapter of F/M sex that would be classified as non-con in a world where consent existed for the characters involved. I’m sorry, but it really is quite necessary in order to establish the dynamics of sexuality in this world. More notes on that particular subject at the end of the Chapter.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Despite its two large burner lamps, the kitchen was dark. The air choked with the stink of rancid goat butter, and spoiling goat meat. A mud brick oven swallowed half the space between the door and the solitary window. There were three wooden shelves, one rickety wooden stool, and a scarred wooden table. Almost unheard of in this land, whose trees had ages ago turned to stone.</p><p> </p><p>Crouched in the shadows beneath the table, the child with no name listened to the Woman and the Man fight.</p><p> </p><p>“But you promised?!” the man wailed. “You said I could keep this one!”</p><p> </p><p>The woman’s hard fist pounded the timber above the child’s head.</p><p> </p><p>“That was before another poor Harvest slut! Before two more village wells dried up! All the coin it cost to feed it? Am I made of money? Don’t you complain! When it was born I could’ve thrown it on the rocks! I could’ve left it on the Anvil!”</p><p> </p><p>“But he can work! He--”</p><p> </p><p>“Not like a Daughter!” her voice cracked like lightning. Rolled like thunder round the small smoky room. “If you’d seeded me more Daughters!”</p><p> </p><p>“I tried!”</p><p> </p><p>“Not hard enough!!!” Another boom of fist on wood. “The he-brat goes! Only the God knows when Traders will come this way again.”</p><p> </p><p>The man was sobbing, harsh little sounds like a dying goat. “But he’s so young!”</p><p> </p><p>“Young? It’s seed time is come! Any day now there’ll be oak in its cock! It can pay back what it cost me. Like the other he-brats you squirted out! This is my word man. Speak again, and I’ll smash your teeth in and black your eyes!”</p><p> </p><p>When the man dared disobey her, the child was so surprised he bit his fingers. He scarcely felt the small pain. His whole life was pain. Vast like the barren waste beyond the village’s Godpost; and had been so since his first caterwauling cry. He was almost numb to it now.</p><p> </p><p>“Please…” the man whispered. “Let me keep him? I’ve seeded you six daughters…”</p><p> </p><p>“It should’ve been eleven!”</p><p> </p><p>Now the Woman sounded like one of her skin and bone dogs. Slavering beasts who fought for bits of offal in the stony yard behind their hovel. The child flinched. He hated those dogs almost as much as he hated the Woman. It was a bright flame, his hatred; hidden deep and safe from the Woman’s sight. She would kill him if she saw it. She would take him by one skinny scabbed ankle and smash him against the nearest rock. She’d done it to a dog once that had dared to growl at her. The other dogs had lapped up its brains, then fought over the bloody carcass all through the long unheated night. On his threadbare blanket beneath the kitchen table, he had fallen asleep to the sound of their teeth; and dreamed the bones they gnawed on were his own. But dangerous or not, he refused to abandon his hate. It was the only thing he owned. It comforted and nourished him, filling his aching; empty belly on the nights he didn’t eat. Because the man’s legs were spread. Or his labors were unfinished. Or the Woman was drunk on Cactus Blood and beating him.</p><p> </p><p>She was beating him now. Open handed blows across the face, swearing and sweating; working herself into a frenzy. The man knew better than to cry out. Listening to the Woman’s palm smack against the hollowed cheeks of the man, to her lusty breathing and his swallowed grunts; the child imagined plunging a knife into her throat. If he closed his eyes, he could see the blood spurt scarlet. Hear it splash on the floor of the hovel as she gasped and bubbled and died. He was sure he could do it. Hadn’t he seen the women of the village with their proud knives cut the throat of goats? Even a horse once that had broken its leg, and was no longer good for anything but meat and hide, and bleach boiled bones. There were knives in a box on the Kitchen’s lowest shelf. His fingers curled and cramped as if grasping a carved bone hilt. He felt his heart rattle against his ribs in his chest. The secret flame flickered, flared; then died. No good. She’d catch him before he killed her. He would not defeat the Woman today. Or tomorrow. Or even next fat Godmoon.</p><p> </p><p>He was too small. And she was too strong. But one day, many fat Godmoons from now; he’d be big. And she would be old and shrunken. Then he’d do it, and throw her body to the dogs after. And laugh and laugh as they gobbled her breasts and her buttocks; and poked their tongues through the empty eye sockets of his skull. One day.</p><p> </p><p>The woman hit the man again. So hard he fell to the pounded dirt floor.</p><p> </p><p>“Your seed is poisoned! Five times you’ve whelped me boy-whores instead of Daughters! Three Daughters you whelped lived less than a Godmoon! I should curse you! Turn you out for the Godspeaker to deal with!!!”</p><p> </p><p>The man was sobbing again. Scarred arms crossed in front of his face. “I’m sorry! I’m so-o-orry…”</p><p> </p><p>Listening, the child felt contempt. Where was the man’s flame? Did he even have one? Weeping. Begging. Didn’t he know this was what the Woman wanted? To see him broken and bleating in the dirt? The man should die first! But he wouldn’t. He was weak. All men were weak. Everywhere in the village the child saw it. Even the men who’s seeded only Daughters. Who looked down on the men who’d seeded he-brats as well. Who watched the Godspeaker stone the cursed witches, who spewed forth nothing but male flesh. Even those men were weak.</p><p> </p><p>‘I not weak.’ The child told himself fiercely, as the Woman soaked the man in venom and spite; and the man wept believing him. ‘I never beg.’</p><p> </p><p>Now the Woman pressed her heel between the man’s ribs and pressed him flat on his back. “You should pray thanks to the God! Another Woman would’ve broke your legs and turned you out Seasons ago! Another Woman would’ve plowed two hands of living Daughters on a better bitch than you!”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes!.....Yes! I am fortunate! I am blessed!” the man gabbled, rubbing at the bruised place on his chest. The woman shucked her trousers.</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe. Maybe not. Spread bitch. You give me a living Daughter nine fat Godmoons from now, or I swear by the Village Godpost I’ll be rid of you onto the Anvil!”</p><p> </p><p>Choking, obedient; the man hiked up his torn shift and let his thin thighs fall open. The child watched unmoved as the Woman seated her swollen furrow on him; grunting and sweating with her effort as she rutted him. The man had a puny blade, and the woman’s soil was old and dusty. He wore his dog-toothed amulet around his neck, but its power was long dead. The child did not think a Daughter would come of this planting. Or any other. Nine fat Godmoons from this day, or sooner; the man would die.</p><p> </p><p>With a satisfied roar the woman slammed her hips down on the man one final time, his thin seed dribbling out as she hitched up her trousers.</p><p> </p><p>“Traders will be here by High Sun tomorrow. Might be Seasons till more come. I paid the Godspeaker to list us as selling, and hang a Goat Skull on the gate. Money won’t come back, so the he-brat goes. Use your water ration to clean it. Use one drop of mine and I’ll flay you. I’ll hang you with rope twisted from your own skin! Understand?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.” The man whispered. He sounded tired and beaten, and there was blood on the dirt between his legs.</p><p> </p><p>“Where’s the he-brat now?”</p><p> </p><p>“Outside.”</p><p> </p><p>The Woman spat. She was always spitting. Wasting water. “Find it. When it’s clean, chain it to the wall so it don’t run like the last one.”</p><p> </p><p>The man nodded. She’d broken his nose with her goatstick that time. The child, three seasons younger then; had heard the man’s splintering bone. Watched the pouring blood. Remembering that, he remembered too what the Woman had done to the other he-brat to make it sorry for running. Things that made the he-brat squeal, but left no mark because Trader’s paid less for damaged goods. That he-brat had been a fool. No matter where the Trader’s took him it had to better than the Village and the Woman. Traders were the only escape for he-brats. Traders or death. And he did not want to die. When they came for him before high sun tomorrow; he would go with them willingly.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll chain him.” The man promised. “He won’t run.”</p><p> </p><p>“Better not.” Growled the man, and then the slap of goat hide on wood as she shoved the kitchen door aside and left. The man rolled his head until his red rimmed eyes found what they sought unde the kitchen table.</p><p> </p><p>“I tried. I’m sorry.”</p><p> </p><p>The child crawled out of the shadows and shrugged. The man was always sorry. But sorrow changed nothing, so what did it matter?</p><p> </p><p>“Traders coming.” He said. “Wash now.”</p><p> </p><p>Wincing, breath catching raw in his throat, the man clutched at the table leg and pulled himself to his knees. Then grabbed hold of the table edge panting, whimpering, and staggered upright. There was water in his eyes. He reached out a work knotted hand and touched rough fingertips to the child’s cheek. The water trembled but did not fall. Then the man turned on his heel, and went out into the searing day. Not understanding. Not caring. The child with no name followed.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Continued notes on the sexual dynamics of this world.</p><p>-	No sexual arousal is required for a man to climax and produce semen. Releasing semen and orgasming are two different things for men in my world.</p><p>-	For the purposes of my story, women don’t ovulate in a monthly cycle. Rather the process happens every time she has sex. The implantation of the egg is what triggers the woman’s climax. It is guaranteed at the end of sex or masturbation. I.e Women orgasm every time no matter what.</p><p>-	The Vagina is very different in my world. In addition to all the usual self lubrication dynamics, the clitoris is in a different place. Instead of its normal placement, it sits at the bottom of the vagina. As the rest of the vagina engorges with arousal, the clitoris extends until it is an appendage that extends outside of the vagina like a almost a mock penis. During sex, the clitoris extends into the man’s anus and pushes against his prostate; thus stimulating the release of semen. </p><p>-	The base biology of men is more or less the same. The only real difference is that a vagina can “pull” an erection out of a man without him needing to enjoy the act. Obviously, consensual sex between a man and a woman who are attracted to each other etc. is still fun. The point I’m trying to make is that the process of getting an erection and releasing semen can also happen without his consent. Any man who’s ever tried prostate massage will tell you, if this is forcibly done; it is unbelievably painful. As in the case of the clitoris (see above) or a finger overstimulating the prostate. Consensual sex between two men is still wonderful. No changes there.</p><p>-	Oral/manual stimulation of the clitoris also results in orgasm. Without semen to help stimulate the seal – during masturbation or lesbian sex - the egg simply runs out along with the rest of her juices; not unlike semen when men jerk off.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. In the Caravan of Maeghara and Derubeis</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A few more "familiar" faces show up. And an important moment in the Child witho no name's life.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Traders came a finger before Highsun the next day. Not the four from before, with tattered robes, skinny donkeys; half starved Camels and hardly any slaves. No, these two Traders were <em>grand</em>…seated on haughty white camels, jangling with all manner of beads and bangles, dangling with jewels and sacred amulets, their skins shiny with fragrant oils and shining knife sheaths on their belts. Behind them stretched the longest snakespine of merchandise. Women’s inferior daughters discarded, a he-brats and Men. All naked. All chained. Some born into slavery, others newly sold.</p><p> </p><p>The difference was in their godbraids. Slaves of longstanding bore one braid of deep red. A sign from the God that they were property. The new slaves would get their red braids in time. Guarding the chained Slaves, five tall women with swords and spears. Their godbraids bore amulets. Even their slavebraids were charmed. They must be special slaves, those guards. In the caravan there were pack camels too. Common brown roped together, laden with baskets cris-crossed with travel charms. A sixth, unchained slave led them. Little more than a girl, her red godbraid bore amulets as well. At her signal, groaning, the camels folded their calloused knees to squat on the hard ground. The slaves squatted too, silent and sweating.</p><p> </p><p>Waiting in his own chains, the crude iron links heavy and chafing round his wrists and ankles, the child watched the traders from beneath lowered lashes as they dismounted and stood in the dust and dirt of the Woman’s small holding. Their slender fingers smooth shining silk robes, tucked their glossy beaded godbraids behind their ears. Their fingernails were all the same neat oval shape, and painted bright colors to match their clothing. Green and purple and crimson and gold. They were taller than the tallest woman in the Village. Taller even than the Godspeaker, who must stand above all. They were the most splendid creatures the child had ever seen. And knowing he would leave with them, leave forever the squallor and misery of the Woman and the Village, his heart beat faster. And his own unpainted fingernails, ragged and shapeless bit deep into his dirty, scarred palms. The traders stared into the cracked bare ground with its whithered straggle of weeds. At the mud brick hovel with its roof of dried grasses badly woven. At the pen of profitless goats. And at the Woman, whose bloodshot eyes shone with hope and avarice.</p><p> </p><p>A look flowed between them. And their plump lips pursed. They were sneering. The child wondered where they came from, to be so clean and disapproving. Somewhere not like this. He couldn’t wait to see such a place himself. Sleep for just one night inside walls that did not stink of fear and goat. He’d wear a hundred chains, and crawl on his hands and knees across the Anvil’s burning sand if he had to so long as he reached it.</p><p> </p><p>The Woman was staring at the Traders too, her eyes popping with amazement. She bobbed her head at them, like a chicken seeking corn.</p><p> </p><p>“Yer Excellencies. Welcome, welcome. Thank you. For your custom.”</p><p> </p><p>The taller trader, wore thick gold earrings, and more amulets were woven in her night black god braids. Tattooed on her right cheek in brightest scarlet, was a stinging scorpion. The child bit his tongue. She had money enough to buy a protection like <em>that</em>? And <em>power</em> enough that a Godspeaker had let her? Aiee</p><p> </p><p>She stepped forward and looked at the Woman, her fingertips flicking at <em>him</em>.</p><p> </p><p>“Just this?” she asked scornfully. He was enchanted. Her voice was deep and dark, like the dead of night. And shaped the words differently from the Woman. When the Woman spoke it sounded like rocks grinding in the dry ravine. Ugly, like her. The Trader was not ugly. The Woman nodded.</p><p> </p><p>“Just this.”</p><p> </p><p>“No Daughters unneeded?”</p><p> </p><p>“Apologies Excellency.” Said the Woman “The God has granted me few Daughters, I need them all.”</p><p> </p><p>Frowning, the Trader circled the child in slow measured steps. He held his breath. If she found him unpleasing – if the Woman did not kill him because of it – he’d be slave to some Village Woman for beating and seeding Daughters, and hard labor without rest.</p><p> </p><p>He would cut his flesh with stone, and let the dogs taste him, tear him, devour him first. The Trader reached out her hand, her flat palm soft and pink, and smoothed it down his thigh, across his buttock. Her touch was warm and heavy. She glanced at the Woman.</p><p> </p><p>“How old?”</p><p> </p><p>“Sixteen.”</p><p> </p><p>The Trader stopped pacing, her companion unhooked a camel whip from her belt of linked precious stones and snapped the thong. The Woman’s dogs – caged for safety – howled and threw themselves against the woven goat hide straps of their prison. In the pens beside her, the Woman’s goats bleated and moaned; dropping anxious balls of shit as their yellow eyes blinked.</p><p> </p><p>“How old?” The Trader asked again. Her eyes were narrow and cold. The woman cringed, head lowered, fingers buckled together.</p><p> </p><p>“Twelve. Forgive me. Honest error”</p><p> </p><p>The Trader made a small disbelieving sound. She’d done something to her eyebrows. Instead of being a thick, tangled bar like the Woman’s; they arched above her eyes in two solid gold half circles. The child stared at them, fascinated; as the Trader leaned down and brought her pale face next to his. He wanted to stroke the scarlet scorpion inked into her cheek. Steal some of her protection in case she did not buy him. Her long slender fingers, tugged on his earlobes, traced the shape of his skull, his nose, his cheeks, pushed back his lips and felt all his teeth. She tasted of salt and things he did not know. She smelled like freedom.</p><p> </p><p>“Is he seeded?” she asked glancing over her shoulder at the Woman.</p><p> </p><p>“Since four godmoons.”</p><p> </p><p>“Intact?”</p><p> </p><p>The woman nodded. “Of course!”</p><p> </p><p>The Traders lip curled. “There is no ‘of course’ where women and he-flesh abide.”</p><p> </p><p>Without warning she plunged her hand between his legs, fingers finding and tracing his cock and squeezing his stones, before pushing, probing further back, higher up and deeper into his entrance. Teeth bared, his own fingers like little claws, the child flew at her screeching. His chains – so heavy a moment before - might’ve weighed no more than the bangles on her slender elegant wrist. The Woman sprang forward shouting, fists raised, face contorted. But the Trader did not need her. She brushed him aside as if he were a corn moth, seizing a handful of dull and tangled hair; she wrenched him to the tips of his toes till he was screaming in pain, not fury; and his hands fell limply by his side. He felt his heart batter his ribs, and despair storm in his throat. Eyes squeezed shut, and for the first time he could remember; felt the salty sting of tears.</p><p> </p><p>He had ruined everything.</p><p> </p><p>There would be no escape from the Village now! No new life beyond the knife edged horizon. The Trader would toss him aside like spoiled meat and when she and her short friend were gone; the Woman would kill her. Or he would be forced to kill himself. Panting like a goat in the slaughter hut he waited for the blow to fall. But the Trader was <em>laughing</em>!</p><p> </p><p>Still holding him, she turned to her friend. “What a little demon?” she chuckled.</p><p> </p><p>“Untamed and feral like all these dwellers in the Savage East.” The other Trader said, her milk white hair shining in the sun.</p><p> </p><p>“But do you see the <em>eyes</em> Rubi? The face? The length of bone and the sleekness of flank? The sweet ass budding? And a good sized cock.”</p><p> </p><p>Trembling he dared to look at her. Dared to hope. The short one wasn’t laughing. She shook her head, setting the ivory dangles in her ears to swinging.</p><p> </p><p>“He’s scrawny.” She said with a sneer.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes. But with food and bathing and three times three Godmoons? Then we shall see.” The Trader said, her gaze traveling up and down his body.</p><p> </p><p>“Your eyes see the invisible Mega. Scrawny brats are often diseased” the white haired Trader said.</p><p> </p><p>“No Excellency!” The Woman protested. “No disease! No puss! No bloating! No worms! Good flesh. Healthy flesh.”</p><p> </p><p>“What there is of it.” Said the Trader. She turned. “He is not diseased Rubi.” She said almost imploringly.</p><p> </p><p>“But he is ill tempered!” her short friend argued. “Undisciplined and wild! He will be troublesome Mega.”</p><p> </p><p>The Trader nodded. “True.” She held out her hand and easily caught the camel whip tossed to her. Fingers tight in his hair, she snapped the woven hide quirt around his legs so that the little metal weights on its end painted bloody patterns in his flesh. The blows stung like fire. The child sank his teeth into his lip, and stared unblinking into the Trader’s careful, watching eyes; daring her to strip the unfed flesh from his bones if he liked. She would see he was no weakling. He was worthy of her coin.</p><p> </p><p>Hot blood dripped down his calf. Within seconds, the small black desert flies and suck-you-drys came buzzing to drink him. Hearing them, the Trader withheld the next blow, instead tossing the whip back to her companion.</p><p> </p><p>“Lesson one little demon….” She said untangling her fingers from his hair, to stroke the sharp line of his cheek. “…..raise your hand or voice to me again, and you will die never knowing the pleasures that await you. Do you understand me?”</p><p> </p><p>All he understood was that the Trader did not mean to reject him. “Yes.”</p><p> </p><p>“Good.” She said nodding. She waved the flies away, then pulled from her gold and purple pocket a tiny pottery jar. When she took off its lid, he smelled the ointment inside. Thick and rich and strange. Startling him, she dropped to one knee, and smeared his burning legs with the jars fragrant paste. Her fingers were cool and sure against his sun seared skin. The pain vanished, and he was shocked. He hadn’t known a woman could touch a he-brat and not hurt it. It made him wonder what else he did not know?</p><p> </p><p>When she was finished, she pocketed the jar, and stood staring down at him. “Do you have a name?”</p><p> </p><p>A stupid question. He-brats were owed no names. No more than the stones on the ground. Or the dead goats in the slaughter hut waiting to be skinned. He opened his mouth to say so. Then closed it again. The Trader was almost smiling. There was a look in her eyes he’d never seen before. A question. Or a challenge. It meant something. He was sure it meant <em>something</em>. If only he could work out what.</p><p> </p><p>He let his gaze slide sideways to the mud brick hovel and it’s leaning kitchen window, where the man thought he could not be seen, dangerously watching the trading. The man who had no name. Just descriptions. Bitch. Slut. Goat lick.</p><p> </p><p>Then he looked at the Woman, shaking with greed for her money. If he gave himself a name, how <em>angry</em> it would make him. But he couldn’t think of one. His mind was blank sand like the Anvil. Who was he? He had no idea. But the Trader had named him hadn’t she? She had called him something. She had called him…….He tilted his chin so he could look at her green and gleaming eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“Dee-Ann” he said, his tongue stumbling over the strange word, and the strange sing songy way she spoke. “Me name Dee-Ann.”</p><p> </p><p>The Trader laughed again. “As good a name as any. And better than most.”</p><p> </p><p>She held up her hand, her two fingers raised. Her short friend tossed her a red leather pouch clinking with coin. The Woman stepped forward, black eyes ravenous.</p><p> </p><p>“If you like the brat so much, I will breed you more…better than this one! Worth twice as much.”</p><p> </p><p>The Trader snorted. “It is a miracle you bred even this one. Do not tempt the God with your blustering. Lest your womb dry up completely.” She said. Nostril pinched, she dropped the pouch into the Woman’s cupped hands. The Woman’s fingers tore at the lacings of the pouch so clumsily that its contents spilled on the sand. With an anguished cry she fell to her knees to gather up the coins. The Trader stood watching her for a moment, before treading on her fingers.</p><p> </p><p>“Your silver has no wings. Remove the child’s chains.” She said. The Woman gaped.</p><p> </p><p>“Remove?” she asked.</p><p> </p><p>The Trader smiled, making her scarlet scorpion dance. “You are deaf? Or would you like to be?” she said, drawing her blade and holding it to the Woman’s chin. “Headless women hear nothing.”</p><p> </p><p>The Woman leapt to her feet, unlocking the chains around the child’s feet.</p><p> </p><p>“Come little Dee-Ann. You belong to me now.” She said whirling. He followed her to the waiting Slave train, thinking she would put her own chains on his ankles, and join him to the other slaves squatting on the ground. Instead, she led him to her camel and turned to her friend. “A robe Rubi.”</p><p> </p><p>The short Trader – <em>Roo-Bai </em>– sighed and tossed her a garment from one of the pack camels baskets. Barely breathing the child stared as the Trader took her knife and slashed through the cloth; reducing it to fit <em>his </em>small body! Smiling, she dropped the cut down robe over his head and guided his arms through its shortened sleeves. She smoothed its cool folds over his naked skin. He was astonished. He wished the Woman’s daughters were here to see this. But they were away at work. Snake dancing and tending goats.</p><p> </p><p>“There.” Said the Trader. “Now we will ride.”</p><p> </p><p>Before he could speak, she was lifting him up and onto the camel. Air hissed between the short Trader’s teeth. “Ten silver pieces? Did you have to give so much?”</p><p> </p><p>“To give less would have been an insult to the God Derubeis.” The Trader said.</p><p> </p><p>“Tcha! This is madness Maeghara! You will regret this! And so will I!” Rubi said, scrubbing one jeweled hand over her white hair.</p><p> </p><p>“I do not think so Rubi. We were guided here by the God. The God will see us safe.” She said, climbing onto the camel and prodding it to stand. With a muffled curse, the short trader climbed onto her own camel and the slave train moved on; leaving the Woman and the man and the goats and the dogs behind them. Dee-Ann sat on the traders haughty white camel, his head held high. And never once did he look back.</p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. A Royal Spectacle</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The Delegates from the South finally make an appearance, and Dee-Ann begins to understand just how little he understands about the world</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm tacking a little bit of Dean's story onto the end of this. Promise there will be a longer and more in-depth chapter for Dean tomorrow. As always, feel free to drop me a comment, I respond to every single one. And if you have any questions or comments - I know this world I'm writing in is very strange - please let me know. With that said let's get it!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The halls of the Keep were packed to bursting with people. Every available seat of the enormous room was filled with courtiers, all brightly attired and practically buzzing with anticipation. Everywhere slaves could be seen rushing with salvers loaded with morsels of food and chalices of various embrocations. The air crackled with the whispers of countless voices in at least four different tongues Castiel could hear. He was sitting amidst his brothers on a raised dais to the left of the throne. From this vantage point, he could just make out some of the many painted faces in the galleries that made up the walls of the Keep like the rings of a tree stump, tapering ever narrower – as the wealth and importance of their occupants lessened – until they reached the ceiling; where the chandelier hung suspended.</p><p> </p><p>Built over seven hundred years before, in the time of Hadassa the Merciful; the legend went that Michaelangela – the greatest architect of her Age – had designed the entirety of the Great Keep around her Chandelier. And in its honor, she built the great Eye. At the time of its construction, it is said to have been the largest window in all of creation. Over a thousand slaves labored night and day to bring the Mistress’ vision into reality. Even all these years later, the chandelier was a pinnacle of Et-Novakarian mastery of the art of sculpting light. Made up of over a million individual wings of glass, so thin and fine they seemed to rustle like the leaves of a great tree; they hung suspended on gossamer threads of steel so fine they were all but invisible. That it was breathtaking at any hour of the day was no question. But once a year, at highsun on the first day of Summer; the light shone through the Eye at <em>just</em> the right angle to make the Chandelier <em>dance</em>. Splitting the light into a thousand thousand colors that flitted and swirled around the enormous room, it is said that the first time this miracle was witnessed, all those in attendance stared until they were blinded by tears. And High Godspeaker Rodmilla had fallen dead right beneath the giant glass sculpture; her soul called home to the Light.</p><p> </p><p>When he was a little boy, Castiel had spent hours laying flat on his back staring up at it. It was – and remained – the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. But that wasn’t why he loved it so. To his child’s mind, it was a physical manifestation of the Light. What he had imagined – ever since – what the God looked like, when he prayed. And though been taught since he’d been weaned from the tit that the Light was always everywhere; Castiel felt <em>sure</em> that it was somehow…closer…here. And any prayer spoke beneath it would almost certainly be heard.  </p><p> </p><p>He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He was ravenously hungry, but his stomacher was already digging into his everything, his ears were two points of <strong>fire</strong> on either side of his head and his feet were starting to ache in his pointed boots. He motioned for the slave waving a large feather fan over him and his brothers to move a bit faster and motioned for Tran – the only Body Slave allowed to serve him in settings such as this – to bring him something cool to drink. No matter the best efforts of the Palace slaves, between the fireplaces, torches and just the sheer amount of people so closely gathered together; the Keep was stiflingly hot, and he could feel a slickness under his arms that meant was body was beginning to pump out sweat. The air was rank with too many different perfumes, not to mention the curlicues of incense bubbling down from the uppermost galleries. Castiel’s eyes were beginning to make water. And he blinked feverishly, desperate not to ruin the Mima’s creation. Tran appeared next to him.</p><p> </p><p>“Honeyed Sadsa” he whispered with a smile, handing Castiel a Prince’s goblet – fitted with a unique spigot to allow him to daintily pour the contents into his mouth without having to disturb the paint on his lips. Castiel drank hungrily, the sweetened richness of the Sadsa singing across his tongue. He fought to suppress a groan of pleasure, shooting Tran a grateful look as he handed the goblet back. Tran waggled his eyebrows ridiculously, before surreptitiously popping a sugar date into Castiel’s palm from his pocket. Castiel shot him a look of mock annoyance before savoring the sugary treat</p><p> </p><p>To the right of their dais, on the enormous throne; sat his Mother the Queen.</p><p> </p><p>From her position at the center of the throne dais, she seemed not simply be sitting in the throne as much as <em>inhabiting </em>it. Like an invisible force all around her, permeating the air with…<em>her</em>…and pushing everyone else out. It did nothing to allay his feeling of unease that she looked better suited to a battlefield than to a throne, sitting as she was dressed in full plate armor. But unlike Annanakiel and the rest of his sisters’ armor, what The Queen had chosen for the occasion carried an air of deadliness that – to Castiel – seemed almost sinister. He imagined to the Southern Envoys, it might seem an odd choice for the woman known throughout the lands as the Queen of Light to clothe herself entirely in black. But then, there were many things about the Queen Castiel found odd.</p><p> </p><p>The popular story among the courtiers was that Queen wore black armor in remembrance of her King whom had so tragically died ten years prior. Their great love story was popular fare for musicians, playwrights and poets. Intimates of the Queen however knew there was a far darker explanation. In her nearly forty years as Queen, Elspeth had taken her foremothers’ dreams of expanding Et-Novakar across the known world, bringing the Light to the darkness; and carved them into reality. Slaughtering hundreds of thousands, some said even <em>millions</em> in the process; every piece of armor, every single link of chain mail; even her sword…was forged entirely from the blood of her enemies.</p><p> </p><p>Her feet looked more the claws of a great raptor, bearing sabatons that tapered into wickedly sharp points. The greaves, poleyns and cuisses clinging to her legs were equally horned and pointed where she’d folded them over one another. Her faulds and chest plate were hammered with protection spells and charms around her Crest, disappearing under huge pauldrons that made her shoulder span look even more enormous.  Nothing of her hair was visible under the mail coif she wore under her helmet – atop which sat her Crown. Her features wore her habitual serious expression that was almost a sneer, half hidden by a carefully fitted bevor that obscured her neck and chin. Castiel knew this addition to her armor was to hide a thick scar where a battlefield enemy had nearly sliced her throat. She sat leaning her gauntleted right hand on her greatsword.</p><p> </p><p>Her features were neither handsome, nor ugly. Just she was looked neither young nor old. Her eyes were bright and cunning hovering over her thin lips and a rather hawkish nose. To Castiel it was impossible to imagine her as having ever been anything but the Queen. He knew she was his Grandmother’s second daughter. That her elder sister had died in battle alongside her mother; and rather than rely on a regent as was the custom, she had taken the throne at thirteen. Only a year older than Castiel was now.</p><p> </p><p>No. Trying to imagine her as a young girl, whose body did not feel like her own; was like trying to imagine that a mountain had once been a pebble.</p><p> </p><p>The Queens lips were pulled tight in disapproval. The Delegates from the South, were late. Whether by accident, or through some clever artifice to build anticipation Castiel didn’t know. But his mother was not known as a patient woman, and he didn’t think it would be wise for them to delay much longer.</p><p> </p><p>Already the event had not been without its’ excitements. There had been some fanfare surrounding his entrance…</p><p> </p><p>As was custom, all his elder Sisters and brothers had preceded him; each walking down the center of the chamber with their retinues; before halting before the Godspeaker to be blessed. Standing as he was on the other side of the heavy oak doors that led from their private parlor to the Keep; he couldn’t see their processions. But he could hear the crowd’s reactions to the various elaborate costumes and theatrics as each of them entered.</p><p> </p><p>It was a rare thing for the Blood – particularly the Queen’s sons – to interact so closely with the people of Et-Novakar and Castiel had no doubt this day would fuel court gossip for months to come.</p><p> </p><p>By the time Castiel had arrived in the Keep, most of his siblings had already entered. He waited patiently for his sister Annanakiel – who had yet to acknowledge his presence – as she barked orders at her Slaves. In sharp contrast to the boys for whom this was a pageant of beauty, Daughters of the Blood used these public appearances as a means to boast of their prowess in the womanly arts of Hunting, Bowmanship or Snake Dancing. His sister Nao-mei had walked with her great asp – Ao-rura – coiled around her neck and arms. With its black skin, bright red markings and gleaming witch-black eyes, it was a terrifying thing she’d brought back with her from the Anvil. In Annanakiel’s case, she was showing off her prowess as a great soldier. She wore her formal armor. Far grander and more ornate than the practical fare she usually donned, this suit had touches of gold added to the plates. Here and there, Castiel could even spot a bit of decorative metalwork and careful hammering of charms and sacred spells adorning her muscled torso. Her flaming hair had been oiled and braided, trailing down her back like a scorpion tail ready to strike. He almost smiled. Anna must be hating this. Despite her good looks, which never failed to garner her much attention from the court men; Anna loathed any form of fuss or as she called it: “Flouncy rubbish meant for men.”</p><p> </p><p>Over her right shoulder was draped a great sash of scarlet, and her enormous longsword dragged on the stones behind her. Anna was famous among the women of the court for her skill with a sword, and had gained all but immortal status when she’d dueled a battle hardened blade dancer nearly twice her age, and cut off her sword arm; using a sword as tall as she was the year before. Swords of ungainly length and proportions had been a permanent addition of her armor ever since. Of all his sisters, she was the most even tempered. Though despite being only seven years his senior, he didn’t think she always remembered he even existed. She had walked into surrounded by Slaves from neighboring Queendoms and conquered lands – their skins painted with strange markings and different colors to highlight their foreignness – all bearing painted wounds from costume arrows and even the stuffed head of some nameless enemy. It was gruesome, but Castiel had to admit – effective. The crowd had responded appropriately. Many of the women cheered and roared, while their men covered their eyes and gasped in horror.</p><p> </p><p>His brother Bartholomew’s costume – which featured a great plume of peacock feathers sprouting from his right shoulder and cascading into a cape down his back – had garnered particular attention. Most notably when he’d raised his arms and the cape had fanned up behind him to mimic an actual peacock in full pride. Much to Gabriel’s – who had followed immediately after – chagrin. His reception from the cheering crowd had been warm, but slightly diminished after the pomp and showmanship Bartholomew had managed.</p><p> </p><p>The brass of the gongs sounded again, and as the trumpets flared to life; Castiel realized it was his turn. It was not until this moment – with the heavy oak doors opening with a heavy clank – that it occurred to Castiel he ought to have prepared something for the crowd. Light burn him for a fool! He’d had the entire morning to think of something but all he’d been worried about were things that have nothing to do with him!</p><p> </p><p>A hush had fallen over the Keep so absolute that his boot heels, and the drag of his gown behind him could be heard as he took his first steps into the cavernous room. He heard a few sharp intakes of breath as countless eyes took in his costume and the face. And he could feel a mounting tension in the air. They were waiting. And Castiel felt himself panic. On instinct, his eyes drifted up to the Chandelier. It seemed unbearably cruel that he should so shame himself here. Not only in front of the entire Palace, but in the one place in all of creation he was <em>certain</em> the Light dwelled.</p><p> </p><p>Light See him now. Light keep….</p><p> </p><p>He interrupted himself mid-prayer. As another thought occurred to him.</p><p> </p><p>In front of the watchful eyes of all in attendance, he dropped to his knees. As heartbeat after her stopped moving, so too did his retinue. He’d bowed his head, but he could feel their eyes on him. Waiting. Uncertain. But he could scarce afford to worry on that now. No more than three heartbeats passed, but Castiel felt them like an eternity, feeling a hammering in his ears as his heart pounded against his ribs. Finally, like a quake on the periphery of his mind, he felt it. The whiplash tightening of his muscles, forcing her back into an arch and stretching his skin tight over his bones. And letting out the breath he hadn’t even known he was holding in a sharp hiss…he opens his eyes, and feels his will rocket out of him.</p><p> </p><p>The air of the Keep was split for a moment with an impact like soundless lightning. Clenching his teeth against the strain, he forced his power to obey. From his hands sprung two great balls of light, blazing white hot for all to see. In the distance he could hear the crowd cheering, but as his power continued to boil out of him, he felt the heavy swatch of his hair ripple behind him as if affected by some unseen wind. Throwing his hands above his head, the two glowing starpoints of light collide right beneath the great Chandelier, doubling in brightness and making its glass shards gleam and glow in new ways.</p><p> </p><p>Fighting the disorientation that always came with such powerful displays of his Blood magic, Castiel brought his arms down to his side. And above him, the twisting ball of light split into three; forming the three points of a triangle.</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t have Anna’s sword, or Nao-mei’s snake. But there kneeling on the stones, with his hair floating behind him as if he were underwater, the folds of his gown draped around him and the tri-point of light blazing above his head – he was the living embodiment of his Family’s crest.</p><p> </p><p>And around him, the crowd exploded into boisterous applause and cheers. He waited a moment more, before releasing his hold on his power and the balls of light, burned out. Feeling the weight of reality drape over his shoulders like an iron shawl, it was all he could do not to collapse as he dragged himself shakily to his feet. Tessa was there, offering him a hand. Castiel took it gratefully, schooling his face and nodding appreciatively at the still cheering crowd. He leaned on Tessa harder than he would’ve liked as she led him the rest of the way down the center of the room to where a young Godspeaker Castiel didn’t recognize was waiting to bless him. His head was clean shaven, save for a handful of godbraids gathered in a tail high on his head, and what was visible of his chest under his ceremonial robes was muscular. It was difficult to properly make out his features beneath the angry looking welts from innumerable Scorpion stings covering his face and hands. Castiel worked to keep his shock from reflecting on his face. Despite his young age, this Godspeaker had swum in the Scorpion Pit, and quite recently from the look of it. Not unheard of for male Godspeakers to be granted such a privilege – but certainly not regular. Unlike the Truthsayers – whose Order was exclusively female – Godspeakers could be of any gender, providing they had a sufficiently strong spark.</p><p> </p><p>Falling to his knees again, Castiel watched as the Godspeaker removed the fist sized Godstone from around his neck, holding it out in front of him as he descended the stairs. As he brought it close to Castiel’s forehead, he could feel his own Godstone around his neck begin to vibrate. The stone glowed bright blue.</p><p> </p><p>“The Light sees you Prince Castiel. It sees your heart.” The Godspeaker said, his voice loud enough for the crowd to hear.</p><p> </p><p>“May I walk in the Light always. May I dance in its Eye.” Castiel answered in kind.</p><p> </p><p>The great gong sounded again, and Castiel allowed Tessa to help him on his way to the dais. His legs still felt like water but he managed it without toppling over; which he supposed was some species of victory. As he turned to take his seat, he felt a shiver ice its way down his back; and his skin erupted in goose flesh. Momentarily disoriented, he looked up.</p><p> </p><p>Directly into the stone cold glare of his Mother the Queen, staring unblinking at him from her throne with a look that could only be described as murderous. </p><p> </p><p>He shrunk back, unsure what to do. The Queen, like many woman of the Blood; did not approve when one of the men became too skilled in the ancient magics. He looked down at his hands, feeling defeated.</p><p> </p><p>Just then the trumpets sounded, and <em>finally</em> the Delegation from Southern Isles stepped into the Keep; and something in Castiel unclenched as he felt his Mother’s focus shift from him to the new arrivals.</p><p> </p><p>A great column of over a hundred slaves bearing baskets and great pallets of tribute came cantering into the Keep, setting down their heavy loads on either side of the central aisle and falling to touch their foreheads to the ground. They looked nothing like Et-Novakarian slaves, dressed in loin cloths and their heads shaved save for the single red godbraid proclaiming their status. Peppered among the slaves, were musicians bearing clay pipes and great curved horns that wrapped around their bodies; and drummers beating out an even tune on great metal drums – hollowed and polished – strapped to their waists; sounding out a tune that was at once as inviting as it was strange and foreign to Castiel’s ears. These slaves – which Castiel could only assume were of a higher status based on their more elaborate dress – walked all the way to the front of the Keep, bowing low to the Queen before settling on either side of the throne and continuing their exotic tune.</p><p> </p><p>The envoys themselves entered next, and they were equally appealing and strange. Walking in pairs their skins were almond brown, and what was visible of their hair was jet black and shining. Their clothing too was strange.</p><p> </p><p>They wore what at first glance appeared to be white cotton dresses. But as they moved, Castiel could see they were trousers of a sort, impossibly wide and gathered at the ankle. On their feet were curved slippers embroidered with bright threads and gold. Covering their chests, they wore embroidered silk tunics that covered them from neck to knees. The tunics were slit up the side to make facilitate walking. Over these they wore a garment that was neither coat, nor cape. Striped fabric in bright hues of red and orange hung loosely off their shoulders and all the way to the floor, but their arms were obscured by great square sleeves that hung almost to their ankles. Around their heads they wore square scarves in similarly bright colors, that had been folded into a triangle with points hanging over each shoulder. Tassels fixed to the each point weighed them down, and atop each of their heads they wore a kind of woven crown. To Castiel it looked like wool thread or possibly some animal hair, coiled and embroidered into thick rope that held the scarves in place. They wore no jewelry, save for curved blades at their waists, but Castiel noticed something strange about their faces. It was their eyes. They had been lined in black paint, as if an artist were sketching an outline. This was most unusual. Et-Novakarian women never painted their faces, unless they were charging into battle.</p><p> </p><p>These were unlike any women he’d ever seen.</p><p> </p><p>But if the women had been strange, they were nothing compared to the sheer absurdity of the men. Castiel could only see two in their party. But they drew more than enough attention. The dresses they wore were dark blue, with light blue bands of decoration and decorative seams. It was difficult to discern the cut of the garment from a distance, until the two men passed right in front of him and Castiel could see that the dress – without the clasps holding them in place along the sides – would’ve been easily three times the length of the man wearing it; before being hitched up to create three tiers to the garment. The effect was striking, but it also obscured any hint of the shape of the body underneath. Such decorative concealment seemed to the be something of a theme. Their sleeves were winged and heavily embroidered in with silver thread and what looked like tiny gold coins sewn along the hems. The men walked had tucked their hands into the opposite sleeve, so Castiel could see nothing of their fingers. But what drew the most attention were their faces. Or rather, <em>not</em>-their faces. For nothing of their face or hair was visible. Thick veils that were completely opaque hung over their heads and shoulders, all the way to the waist. Nothing of their faces could be seen save for a tiny strip cut into the scarf to allow them to see. They wore similar woven headdresses to the women, only theirs were much finer. Hung with more ropes of coins and metal tassels, they wore heavy necklaces and overtop to ensure the scarves obscuring their faces would not be affected by any wind.</p><p> </p><p>Castiel found himself staring at them, and forced his eyes back to a particularly handsome women at the front of the procession, who stepped forward to speak.</p><p> </p><p>“My Queen. I am named Idan. It is a great honor for this humble person, to stand here in your shining city, and to be welcomed so warmly into the presence of the Queen of Light herself.” She said, her voice ringing out musically. “Truly the Light of the God shines brightest in your presence, and that of your beautiful family.” She spoke with a strange accent. She rolled her r’s, and there was a sharpness to the consonants that hinted her tongue was accustomed to a much more brutal language.</p><p> </p><p>All eyes turned to the Queen. She inclined her head at the compliment, and straightened even further in her throne.</p><p> </p><p>“Well met, my Lady. We are as honored by your kind words, as by you gracious presence here. You are most welcome in Et-Novakar. It has been too long since last I supped with my old friend. I shall send a messenger this very night, thanking her for her gracious tribute.” The Queen said. Her voice was like ice breaking off the side of a glacier, roughened by the injury to her throat.</p><p> </p><p>“You honor us great Majesty. I know my lady Mother mirrors your feelings. I come bearing letters penned in her own hand.” The envoy said. “She asks that you accept this humble tribute as a show of her esteem; and hopes that we may continue in friendship during these difficult times. And find some way to further strengthen the bonds of love and alliance that exists between our great lands.”</p><p> </p><p>Castiel’s eyes widened. So, this was not just any Envoy. She was a Princess.</p><p> </p><p>“This is my wish also. There will be time enough to speak of many things in the coming days. For now let us break and be merry. Tonight we shall feast in your honor.” The Queen grated, before pushing off from the throne, and with a curt nod; stalked out of the Keep and into her private hallway.</p><p> </p><p>The room exploded into a flurry of voices and activity as first the Southern Delegation and then his siblings began making their exits. Castiel sat back. It would be a while yet before he could leave. Though he wished he could’ve flown to his chambers. He longed to be freed from this thrice cursed costume, and he was starving. But more than anything he wanted to simply <em>think</em>. Everything about this day’s presentation seemed strange to him. Too much had passed in looks and meaningful glances between the Queen and the Princess. Why was the Princess even here at all? Who were those strange men in the Delegation? What difficult times was this Idan referring to? And just what were these ‘many things’ that needed discussing?</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t have the answers to any of these questions. But he intended to find out.</p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. The Godpost</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Dee-Ann continue to learn more about the world beyond the Village in the caravan of Maeghara and Derubeis; and encounters for the first time just what the religion of Novak looks like up close.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As the village, with its splintered, weathered Godpost dwindled into the heat hazed distance behind the Caravan, the tall trader Maeghara said – her hand warm and secure on Dee-Ann’s shoulder:</p><p> </p><p>“The others we purchased. Do you know them?”</p><p> </p><p>She and short Derubeis had bought four more Villagers after leaving the woman’s holding. A woman, another he-brat, and two girls. Unlike him, they walked with the rest of the Slaves, chained to them and to each other; and guarded by the five tall slaves with spears. Sitting before Maeghara on her white camel, its coarse hair tickling his bare legs, he shook his head.</p><p> </p><p>“No. Dee-Ann knows Woman. Man. Woman’s daughters.” A shiver ran over his skin. “Godspeaker.”</p><p> </p><p>“No one else? You had no friends?” said Maeghara. “Who will you weep for tonight Dee-Ann?”</p><p> </p><p>He shrugged. “Dee-Ann not weep.”</p><p> </p><p>Rising beside them Derubeis sighed, shaking her godbraids out of her face. “Must you talk to it Mega? It’s not a pet.” She said sounding annoyed.</p><p> </p><p>Maeghara chuckled. “I’ve heard you talk to your Monkey.”</p><p> </p><p>He looked over his shoulder at her. “Mon….kee?”</p><p> </p><p>“An animal. Smelly, noisy, greedy.” She smiled. “Rubi will introduce you when we reach Et-Banotaj.”</p><p> </p><p>“I won’t! She will teach little Hooli bad manners.” said Derubeis sounding terribly offended. “Maeghara you should sell this one before we get home.” A bright blue stone carved into a single staring eye, dangled on a chain around her neck. She clutched it with stubby fingers. “There is a darkness about him.”</p><p> </p><p>“Superstition.” Maeghara grunted. “The God desired us to find this one. You worry for nothing Rubi. We will reach Et-Banotaj.” Dee-Ann frowned.</p><p> </p><p>“Et-Banotaj?” he asked frowning.</p><p> </p><p>“Our home.” Maeghara said.</p><p> </p><p>“Where?” asked Dee-Ann. Maeghara pointed ahead to where the ground met the sky.</p><p> </p><p>“Further than your eye can see Dee-Ann. Many Godmoons traveling. Beyond the horizon.” She said flatly. Dee-Ann shook his head. That place was so far away he couldn’t imagine it. Already he was lost. The barren land stretched on every side, dressed in all its hot colors. Spindle grass withered beneath the uncovered sun. The sky was a heavy palm, pressing him flat towards the slow baked ground. Beneath the padding of camel feet, the clanking of slave chains and the clicking of rock against pebble; silence waited like a sandcat poised to smother and kill. If he wasn’t careful, he’d forget how to breathe. Maeghara’s hand returned to his shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>“Fear not Dee-Ann. You are safe with me.” She said warmly.</p><p> </p><p>“Safe?” he asked.</p><p> </p><p>Beside them, Derubeis chitted. “He may be a monkey, but at least my little Hooli understands more than one word in five!” she said with a sneer. Maeghara ignored her.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes Dee-Ann. Safe. That means I will protect you.” She said. Her fingers had tightened a little. And her voice was gentle. The wonder of that was as crushing as the sky. “No hurting. No hunger. <em>Safe</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>He became one with the silence thinking of this new word. In the village, no he-brat was safe. Not from the Woman, or her Daughters, or the Godspeaker who stalked the streets like a vulture looking for sin to stone. “Safe.” He whispered to himself. The white camel flicked its ear at him, grumbling softly as it walked. He looked back at the Trader. “Safe? Et-Banotaj?”</p><p> </p><p>She smiled widely at him, teeth blinding. Tiny gemstones sparkled blue and red and green. He gasped, and touched his own teeth in amazement. He had not noticed her gemstones in the village. Maeghara laughed.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you like them?” she asked. He nodded. “You wish for some of your own?”</p><p> </p><p>Short Rubi moaned like a man. “Mega…..I beg you! Protections in your teeth are one thing. It’s proper! But in <em>his </em>mouth?! The waste!”</p><p> </p><p>“Perhaps.” Said Maeghara shrugging. “But I will buy him an amulet in Todorok. Other eyes are not blind Rubi. They will see what you cannot.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, yes. They’ll see!” grumbled the short Trader, like camel. “They’ll see you’re Godforsaken!”</p><p> </p><p>Laughing, Maeghara waved away an obstinate fly. “With this prize? Rubi kiss your eye for blasphemy.”</p><p> </p><p>Derubeis didn’t kiss her blue stone eye. But she touched it again. “You tempt the God to smiting Mega. Boast less! Pray more!”</p><p> </p><p>Dee-Ann sighed. Words, words, words. Buzz, buzz, buzz. “Maeghara.” She’s said he could use her name. “Tell Dee-Ann, Et-Banotaj.”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t!” said Rubi. “He will see it soon enough.”</p><p> </p><p>“He can barely utter a civilized sentence Rubi.” Said Maeghara. “If I do not speak with him how will he learn?” she said turning to Dee-Ann. “Et-Banotaj is a mighty city.”</p><p> </p><p>“City?” he asked.</p><p> </p><p>She held her arms wide. “A big, big, <em>big</em> village. You know big?”</p><p> </p><p>He nodded. “Yes. Big not village. Dee-Ann village small.” He said.</p><p> </p><p>“He is not stupid Rubi. Underfed yes, and starved of learning. But in no way is he stupid.”</p><p> </p><p>Rubi threw up her hands. “And this is good Mega? Intelligent slaves are good? Aiiiieeeeee may the God protect us!”</p><p> </p><p>The talking stopped then. In silence they passed the time, chasing the thin shadows the sun cast down in front of them. Maeghara was like the God. She knew where to ride, even though the land was empty. Dee-Ann felt his eyes drift closed. His head nod like a weed on a wilting stem. Maeghara’s hand rest on his shoulder, he would not fall. He slept. Safe. </p><p> </p><p>*     *     *</p><p> </p><p>When Maeghara shook him awake, the sun had made way for dusk. And the first stars were already visible. The godmoon and his wife were risen, small silver discs against the deepening dark. The white camels lifted their heads. The white camels raised their heads snuffling, then slowed and knelt on the ground.</p><p> </p><p>“This will do.” Said Maeghara, slaready sliding from her saddle. “Stake the slaves out Obid, he ordered the oldest and tallest of the Guards. “Food and water.”</p><p> </p><p>“How much Mistress?” said Obid. “That village was poor. Supplies are low, and no hunting here.”</p><p> </p><p>Maeghara looked around her, at the sun killed plane. “A fist of grain, a cup of water. Night and dawn till my word changes. In twenty high suns we will reach Todorok village and trade for fresh supplies. What we have will last until then.”</p><p> </p><p>Dee-Ann felt his eyes go wide. Twenty high suns? So far away! Had any woman in the village ever traveled so far? He did not think so. While Obid and the other guards settled the camels and slaves for the night, Maeghara and Derubeis unpacked baskets and sacks. He watched for a moment, aware of a growing discomfort. He jiggled, looking round. There was nothing to squat behind. Derubeis noticed, stopped unpacking and tugged at Maeghara’s sleeve.</p><p> </p><p>“Dee-Ann?” she asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Need lose water.” He said.</p><p> </p><p>“Pish you mean?” she asked. Did he? Guessing, he nodded.</p><p> </p><p>“Need lose water now.”</p><p> </p><p>Maeghara went to her white camel, opened on of its many baskets and pulled out a small clay pot. “Pish into this and give it to Obid.” To Obid? He stared.</p><p> </p><p>“Obid want body water?” he asked frowning.</p><p> </p><p>“I want it.” She said. When she saw he still didn’t understand, she added. “Your village? Do the people keep body water?”</p><p> </p><p>“For goat leather. No goats Maeghara?” he remarked looking around.</p><p> </p><p>“No. But we turn our body water into coin when we encounter other villages that need more. Pish now De-Ann, we must make camp.”</p><p> </p><p>So he pished, and gave the sloshing pot to Obid. She did not speak to him, just poured his water into a big clay jar, unstrapped from the sturdiest pack camel. As he walked away, he felt the chained slaves gazes sliding sideways over his skin; wondering and jealous. Let them wonder. Let them hate. He did not care for them.</p><p> </p><p>After pishing, tired and sore from camel riding, he yawned cross legged on the blanket Maeghara gave him; amazed as the traders produced rolls of colored cloth from the pack camels baskets. And turned them into little rooms.</p><p> </p><p>“Tents.” Said Maeghara, seeing his surprise. “You will sleep in mine.”</p><p> </p><p>There was food in the white camels basket. Better than the slaves were eating. Better than any food he’d smelled in his life. Derubeis made a fire with bricks of dried camel dung, and warmed the food in an iron pot held over the flames, and she added leaves he didn’t recognize. She kept them in little shiniy boxes, and talked to herself as she pinched some from this one, and some from that. Rubi was strange. As the food slowly heated, releasing such smells, his belly turned over and over. And he almost choked on the juices flowing from his mouth.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t snatch.” Said Maeghara as she handed him a pottery bowl filled halfway, and a spoon. Her knuckles rapped hard on his head. “Dignity. Restraint. Conduct. You must learn these things.”</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t know those words. All he knew was that he’d displeased her. For the second time that day, salty water stung his eyes. “Tch! Tch! Tch!” she soothed him. No knuckles now, just a gentle pat to his cheek. “Eat. Slowly. I will fetch you drink. You know <em>sadsa</em>?”</p><p> </p><p>Mouth stuffed full of meat – <em>aiiiieeee </em>so wonderful – he shook his head as she took an empty bronze cup, and filled it from a leather flask.  Rubi nodded. “Good idea Mega. If you insist on having it in your tent, best it be well fuddled.”</p><p> </p><p>Maeghara shook her head. “Dee-Ann is no danger”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>You</em> say!” Rubi said around a mouthful.</p><p> </p><p>“The God says.” She replied, frowning.</p><p> </p><p>Rubi put down her own bowl, and rummaged through the leather bag that held her little bottles of leaves. “Best be safe than sorry.” She said, tossing Maeghara a small yellow pouch. Maeghara rolled her eyes, but she took some blue powder from the pouch, and dropped it into the cup and swirled. Then she tossed the pouch back to Rubi and handed the cup to Dee-Ann.</p><p> </p><p>“Sadsa Dee-Ann. Drink.” She said. He was dumbstruck. No <em>woman</em> had ever served him before. Men served women. That was the way. Almost dreamy, he lifted the bronze cup to his nose. Sadsa was creamy white, and the sweet sour smell tickled his nose. There were tiny flecks of blue caught in its frothy surface. He looked at Rubi, not trusting her.</p><p> </p><p>“What?” he asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Sadsa is camel milk.” Said Maeghara. “Good for you.” She added. She didn’t understand, so her pointed into the cup, then the yellow pouch still caught in Derubeis’ hand.</p><p> </p><p>“What?” he repeated. Maeghara chuckled.</p><p> </p><p>“I told you Rubi. Not stupid!” she chuckled. Bending, she patted his cheek again. “For sleeping Dee-ann. It will not harm you. Drink.”</p><p> </p><p>She had saved him from the Woman. She did not chain him with the other slaves. She’d clothed him and let her ride before her on her camel. He drank. Sadsa flowed down his throat and into his belly like soft fire. He gasped choking. The dancing flames blurred. So did Derubeis’ face, and Maeghara’s. He put down the bronze cup and ate more meat. His fingers felt clumsy, wrapped around the spoon. Too soon the bowl was empty. Hopefully he looked at Maeghara.</p><p> </p><p>“No.” she said. “Your belly’s had enough surprise. Finish your sadsa. Then you can sleep.”</p><p> </p><p>By the time the cup was empty. He could barely keep his eyes open. It slipped from his silly fat fingers to the ground, and rolled in little circles that made him laugh. Laughing made him laugh. What a stupid sound? Woman didn’t like it. She’d hit him when he laughed. Laughing was for secret. For almost never. But Maeghara wasn’t angry. She was smiling, her green eyes mysterious; and in the leaping firelight the jewels in her teeth were mysterious. The scarlet scorpion sat quietly in her skin, keeping her safe. He tried to stand, but his legs had turned to grass. He lay on his back instead, staring at the pricky stars; and laughing even harder.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh put it to bed Mega!” said Derubeis crossly. “If this is what we’ve got to look forward to on the long road back to Et-Banotaj I doubt you and I will be speaking by the end.”</p><p> </p><p>“Et-Ba-no-taj!” he sang softly to the Godmoon and his wife. “Dee-Ann go Et-Ba-no-taj……”</p><p> </p><p>Strong arms slid beneath his shoulders and his knees. Maeghara lifted him as the God’s breath lifted dust. “See how the God smiles Rubi?” she said “He has a sweet song voice to match his face.”</p><p> </p><p>Rubi said something he couldn’t understand. But it sounded rude. His upside down face wore a rude look. Dangling backwards over Maeghara’s arms, he pointed at it. “Funny Rubi make goat talk! Meh meh meh!”</p><p> </p><p>Maeghara laid him inside her tent on something soft and warm. Like a cloud of sunshine. And covered in a blanket that didn’t scratch his skin. “Sleep Dee-Ann.” She said.</p><p> </p><p>“Maeghara.” He sighed, and felt his lips curl as he fell headfirst into the warm dark. “Maeghara.”</p><p> </p><p>*     *     *</p><p> </p><p>He woke in daylight from a bad dream about the Woman’s dogs, needing to lose water so badly his cock was rock hard, and his stomach was cramping. Maeghara snored, a long still shape in her striped wool blanket. Heart still pounding from the dream, he fumbled the tent flap open and stumbled outside where Obid and the other guards walked up and down the snake spine of slaves; taking away their dirty wool blankets and making sure none had died in the night. They carried pots, and one by one the slaves squatted over them; losing water and making coin for Maeghara.</p><p> </p><p>There was no time to ask for a pot of his own. Hot trickles were running down the length of his cock. So he moved away from the tent, hiked up the yellow robe Maeghara had given him and let his own water flow. Obid saw him, shoving the pot she carried to another guard and loping towards him with arms outstretched and teeth bared. He staggered backward, fingers clawed as he fell over his own feet and collapsed to the ground, scrambling backwards like a lizard.</p><p> </p><p>“<strong>Maeghara!!!!!</strong>” he screamed.</p><p> </p><p>She came out of the tent as Obid reached him, her hands swinging as if to smack his face. “Obid!” she shouted. “Hunta!”</p><p> </p><p>Obid dropped to her knees like an axed goat and pressed her forehead to the dirt. “Mistress.”</p><p> </p><p>Maeghara carried a long green club with a knot on one end and plaited thongs on the other. She tossed it into the air, caught it just above the knot and brought the thongs down hard across Obid’s bowed shoulders. Obid wore only her loincloth and her light brown skin welted at once and she whimpered. Four more times Maeghara struck her. Obid’s fingers spasmed, but she didn’t cry out.</p><p> </p><p>“Stand.” Said Maeghara. She sounded calm but stern. “See this one?”</p><p> </p><p>Standing again, Obid looked at him. “Mistress.”</p><p> </p><p>“This one may not be touched without my nod.” She said.</p><p> </p><p>Obid struggled for words. “Mistress. This one spilled its water on the ground.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ah.” Maeghara said, dropping to crouch next to Dee-Ann where he was still laying in the dirt. Her scarlet scorpion flexed its claws as she grimaced. “What did I tell you Dee-Ann?”</p><p> </p><p>“Use pot.” He stammered.</p><p> </p><p>“If you don’t use a pot you waste your water. That is the same as stealing my coin. You understand?”</p><p> </p><p>He felt the cool new sun air catch in his throat and his eyes stretched wide. The Godspeaker saved his second sharpest stones for thieves. “No steal Maeghara! No time for pot. Need make pish now!” he said, making her sigh. Behind her Obid’s face was flat as a stone. Only her deep brown eyes were alive, full of questions.</p><p> </p><p>“Dee-Ann. You are precious. But if you close your ears to my word again, I will give Obid my nod; and she will beat you. Just like you are one of the slaves she guards. You want this?”</p><p> </p><p>Dee-Ann you are <em>precious</em>!</p><p> </p><p>The words burst inside him like a rain cloud. Rare and hardly looked for. He nodded, drenched with pleasure. “No Maeghara. Water in pot.”</p><p> </p><p>Her lips twitched. “<strong>All</strong> my words must be heeded Dee-Ann. You understand?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes. Dee-Ann understand.” He said.</p><p> </p><p>Supple as a snake, she rose to her feet, her god braids swishing over her shoulder as she turned. “Good. Obid?” she said, crossed her arms as Obid rose to meet her.</p><p> </p><p>“Mistress?”</p><p> </p><p>Maeghara placed a fingertip on Dee-Ann’s forehead. “Unless you receive my nod, this one is hidden from you.” She said. Now the questions in Obid’s eyes writhed like maggots in rotten meat. “You do not touch him. You do not speak to him, and none of the others must come near him. This is my word.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes mistress.” Obid said with a nod.</p><p> </p><p>“Go back to your business. We leave soon.” Maeghara said, walking back into the tent.</p><p> </p><p>Obid bowed. “Mistress.” Dee-Ann watched as Obid walked back to the slave-line, where her fellow guards pretended not to watch, before following Maeghara back into the tent.</p><p> </p><p>“Obid not like Dee-Ann.” He said softly. Maeghara smiled.</p><p> </p><p>“Does Dee-Ann care?” she asked, raising one golden eyebrow at him. There was a smile in her eyes like a secret  that made Dee-Ann feel warm. Safe.</p><p> </p><p>“No. Dee-Ann not care.” He said honestly, allowing himself a grin.</p><p> </p><p>“Good. It is foolish to care for the feelings of a slave. Now come.” She said. He returned with her to their camp, where Rubi was brewing tea and cooking corn cakes in a pan. She was wearing a white robe shot through with gold threads, and all her godbraids were gathered in a tail at the base of her neck. She’d taken off her blue stone eye. Now a green coiled snake circled round her neck. The stone it was carved from was shiny. He’d never seen anything like it before. Seeing his gaze, she tucked it into the neck of her robe.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>More</em> trouble Mega?” she asked sourly as she watched Maeghara settle herself on the blanket and portion out food and drink for two.</p><p> </p><p>“No.” she said, handing him a plate and cup. Then she picked up a jug and poured warm milk over his corn cakes. “Honey?” she offered.</p><p> </p><p>“What honey?” Dee-Ann asked.</p><p> </p><p>“What <strong><em>is</em></strong> honey?” she corrected. “You must learn proper Novaki Dee-Ann. Fluent. <em>Pleasing</em> speech. Not this cobbled together grunting of yours.”</p><p> </p><p>“What Novaki?” he asked.</p><p> </p><p>“What <em>is</em> Novaki.” She cut in. “It is the tongue of our people. We are Novaki. This land is Novak, gift of the God.” She explained. When he looked at her not understanding, she shook her head. “She never taught you that much? Your mother?”</p><p> </p><p>Mother? She meant the Woman?</p><p> </p><p>He shrugged. “He-brats like goat. Who want teach goat?” he asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Only Godforsaken fools.” Muttered Derubeis from across the fire. Maeghara shot her a dark look.</p><p> </p><p>“What of your father?”</p><p> </p><p>He sniggered. “Man not teach. Woman beat man he talk he-brats.” He said sipping from the cup carefully. Not sadsa this time. Tea. It was cool enough to drink. He gulped, certainly thirsty. “Man try….talk a little when woman gone.”</p><p> </p><p>“Did anybody else talk to you?” Maeghara asked sipping her own tea.</p><p> </p><p>“Sometimes. Woman not like. But Dee-Ann listen to woman. Woman’s girls. Women visit woman. Dee-Ann learn words. Learn counting.” He said. Maeghara smiled.</p><p> </p><p>“Clever Dee-Ann.” She said lifting the jug again. “Honey is sweet. You know…sweet?” He shook his head, watching as Maeghara poured a sticky gold stream onto his corn cakes. “Eat.” She said still smiling. “Use your fingers.”</p><p> </p><p>“I thought you wanted it civilized?” Derubeis asked, watching the entire exchange with disinterest.</p><p> </p><p>“That will come.” Said Maeghara. “For now let him touch the world. Let it become more real. Something to be embraced. Not feared. If he is to make my fortune he…”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Our</em> fortune!” said Derubeis, sounding offended.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes Rubi.” Maeghara said indulgently. “Our fortune. And it will be a large one.” She added, looking at Dee-Ann.</p><p> </p><p>“You heard Mega monkey. Eat! If you don’t eat there will be no meat on your bones and the good coin we paid for you will be for nothing!” Derubeis said pointing at his plate.</p><p> </p><p>More goat words from Derubeis. Like everything else she said. He would listen to Maeghara. He folded the corncake in half and shoved it into his mouth. His eyes popped, as the sticky gold honey melted on his tongue. <em>This</em> was sweet? This……this…….? Both Traders were laughing at her.</p><p> </p><p>“So? You like honey Dee-Ann?” Maeghara asked. He chewed swallowed and looked down at the other honey soaked corncakes. Cold now, but he didn’t care about that.</p><p> </p><p>“Dee-Ann like.” He said</p><p> </p><p>“You should say thank you!” Derubeis said sniffing. “Only savages and monkeys have no manners. Say <em>thank you Derubeis and Maeghara</em>!”</p><p> </p><p>His tongue yearned for more sweet. “Thank you Maeghara and Derubeis.” He smiled for Maeghara alone. “Thank you for honey.” He said. Maeghara patted his cheek.</p><p> </p><p>“You are welcome Dee-Ann. Now eat. The sun flies up and we must be on the road.” She said returning to her own meal. Dee-Ann leapt to obey her word, stuffing sweet corn cakes into her mouth.</p><p> </p><p>“Educate it if you must Mega. But do refrain from fondling. As slaves go it might be quick witted, but your pet doesn’t understand as much as you think!” she said, pouring more honey over her corncakes.</p><p> </p><p>Maeghara laughed and drank her tea.</p><p> </p><p>*    *    *</p><p> </p><p>After breakfast, they remounted the camels and set off; traveling slowly but steadily under the hot blue sky. Today stretched into tomorrow, and soon many days had passed. Every highsun, Maeghara taught Dee-Ann proper Novaki words, and Derubeis grumbled.</p><p> </p><p>On the sixteenth day, the landscape began to change from flat to uneven; with deep ravines and steep hillsides. Dee-Ann gasped and stared. Everything around the village was flat, flat, flat until the sky met the earth. Maeghara had taught him a new word. Mountain. But she assured him that these were not that. He sighed. He could not imagine anything could be taller than these. But Maeghara gave him her word and he trusted that.</p><p> </p><p>After Highsun on the twenty second day, they came to a road that twisted and turned like a snake, then plunged downward over a sharp jutting edge.</p><p> </p><p>Tally spindly treed with whippy branches crowded close on either side, flogging their faces and arms and legs. The camels complained with every step, and Maeghara tightened her arm around Dee-Ann’s middle; leaning back as they reached the bottom. He gasped then they reached it finally. Here was <em>green</em> land spread before them. Thick grass wherever he looked. And more flowering bushes than ever grew in the village. Springs of water bursting from underground. Aaaiiiiieeeeee!!!!! He wished they could stop. He wanted to touch the bubbling water, and run with bare feet in all the growing grass. But lowsun was casting its long thin shadows. They would have to camp soon.</p><p> </p><p>Rubi was asleep already, trusting her camel to keep pace with Maeghara. She woke her. “We have reached the lands of Jokriel Warlord Rubi. The Savage East is left behind.”</p><p> </p><p>Grunting, snuffling, she straightened from her sleeping slouch. “At last. I never wish to travel there again Mega. Make a note!” she said.</p><p> </p><p>“We travel where the God desires.” Said Maeghara. “Now let us do our duty to the Godpost. Then seek a pleasant place to camp.”</p><p> </p><p>There was a Godpost Dee-Ann saw, a little further along the road. Tall and grim and scorpion carved, with a white stone crow at its top. No godbowl for offerings at its base. But a craggy lump of blue crystal. The traders halted their camels and the slave-train, and Dee-Ann watched as Maeghara dismounted the camel and walked to the Godpost. She removed two small carved cylinders from her robes and pressed them to the unremarkable stone.</p><p> </p><p>“The warlord guards these lands, and keeps them safe. Traders pass wherever they please. But still we must announce our presence and prove that we have paid our road rights taxes. And we must pay our tribute to the God.” She explained haughtily.</p><p> </p><p>Dee-Ann did not know what a Warlord was. But he had no time to think on it as Obid brought forth a male slave and led him to where Maeghara was standing. She drew the great curved dagger at her waist, and without warning, plunged it into the belly of the slave. Dee-Ann gasped. With a squelch, Maeghara twisted the blade and dragged it up through the slave’s ribs and out through its neck with a horrible crack stepping back sharply so no blood stained her robe. Obid held the slave’s shoulders while it gurgled and died, guiding its carcass forward so the blood and organs spilled freely over the chunk of stone with a wet slap.</p><p> </p><p>Brilliant light flared to life inside the stone, shining out through the dead slave’s eyes and mouth; before with a crackle and a hiss of air almost like a sigh; flesh and blood and bone turned black and dissolved into the air like smoke.</p><p> </p><p>Alarmed, Dee-Ann looked at Derubeis. How had Maeghara made the light flare? Why did the slave have to die? And what had happened to the body? “Tch! Tch! Let Maeghara explain it you if she wishes. I couldn’t care less what you know and what you do not.” She said impatiently.</p><p> </p><p>But Maeghara wasn’t interested in talking of lights and warlords when she returned to her camel, handing the soiled blade to Obid for cleaning. She was only interested in making camp; and finding the best place. When they finally settled on a site, Dee-Ann saw small grey animals with long ears all along the grass around them. Maeghara gave her word and Obid killed them with her slingshot. Every time she stuff a limp body into the sack on her back, she flashed Maeghara a brilliant smile.</p><p> </p><p>“Rabbits.” Said Maeghara. “You do not know rabbits?”</p><p> </p><p>Dee-Ann shook his head. “No rabbits village.”</p><p> </p><p>“You are far from your village now Dee-Ann. Forget that place. It does not exist.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes Maeghara. How far Todorok village?” he asked.</p><p> </p><p>“We will reach it a finger or two past highsun tomorrow.” She explained.</p><p> </p><p>“More honey there?” he asked hopefully. That made her laugh. Dee-Ann had developed a voracious appetite for honey, and desired to eat it with all his food.</p><p> </p><p>“Perhaps. Slaves too.” She said. He felt a prickling of fear. If she found a he-brat more precious than her……</p><p> </p><p>“Many slaves now…” he said tentatively.</p><p> </p><p>“There is no such thing as too many slaves Dee-Ann.” Maeghara said seriously.</p><p> </p><p>They must talk of something else. Raking his mind, he put together his words the way she’d told him he must. “How far…is Et-Banotaj?” he asked.</p><p> </p><p>She made a pleased sound deep in her throat. “Many godmoons caravanning still. Your village lies at the Doorstep of the Anvil. The Anvil? You know it?”</p><p> </p><p>He nodded. The Anvil was the dreaded forever desert one highsun’s ride beyond the village Godpost. He’d never seen it of course. But he knew of many Women and girls lured into it hunting Sand cats who were never seen again. He’d used to wish the Woman would be so foolish.</p><p> </p><p>“Et-Banotaj sits on the far side of Novak. Et-Novakar city – where the Queen lives – sits right at the North Edge of the Queendom. Et-Banotaj, where we live is close to the Western Novaki Border, half a godmoons ride from the Sand River.” She explained but Dee-Ann understood none of it. He was beginning to understand that this world was a much larger place than his head had space to imagine. And that there were more words in Novaki than stars in the night sky.</p><p> </p><p>“Border? Sand River?” he asked shaking his head.</p><p> </p><p>Maeghara smiled fondly. “Your world could fit in a stunted nutshell. The border is where Novak ends. And the bordering Queendoms begin. The sand river is a desert, like the anvil, though nowhere near as vast or fierce. Do you understand?”</p><p> </p><p>Beside them, Rubi roused. “Spare your breath Mega…..” she whined. “It doesn’t Geography. Teach it a dozen ways to spread its legs and it will know more than enough for our purposes.”</p><p> </p><p>Dee-Ann ignored Derubeis stupid goat bleating as if she had not spoken, as had become his habit. Instead, he struggled to untangle Maeghara’s meaning. “Novak….end?” he asked.</p><p> </p><p>Patiently, Maeghara rested her warm hand on the back of Dee-Ann’s neck. “Yes. At the Sand River. Beyond that, lie other lands. We do not go to those places. Their ways are different to ours. Savage. They do not serve the God. Those people are dead to us.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why?” he asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Because the God has said so.” Maeghara said.</p><p> </p><p>“Why?” he asked again.</p><p> </p><p>Derubeis gasped and clutched her lizard foot amulet, kissing it and pressing it to her forehead, muttering to herself. Maeghara’s hand closed around her neck, painted nails pressing into her throat, wrenching him forward. “You wish to live Dee-Ann?” she hissed.</p><p> </p><p>He was frightened. Maeghara’s voice had turned dark, and her breath cut harshly across his cheek. She was angry. But what had he done? He nodded gasping.</p><p> </p><p>“<strong>Never. Ask. The God. Why.</strong> Not in your heart and <strong><em>never</em></strong> with your mouth! <em>Understand</em>?” she growled.</p><p> </p><p>No. But she was hurting him. So again he nodded.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes!” Dee-Ann breathed. </p><p> </p><p>“Good.” She said and let him go. “That is all you learn today.”</p><p> </p><p>Rubi had kissed her amulet so hard it had bit into her flesh. A small line of blood dribbled down her chin. She touched the blood and stared at the bright spot with horror, leaning over to push her finger in Maeghara’s face.</p><p> </p><p>“See this Maeghara! The God bites me! It is a sign! Dream no more of fortune! Sell you precious Dee-Ann in Todorok! I beg you!!!” she said sounding desperate. Maeghara reached for a square of white linen and handed it to her.</p><p> </p><p>“The God does not punish sideways Rubi. You bleed for your own sin. Or by accident. Dee-Ann is not for sale in Todorok. Dee-Ann let out a slow breath and waited for his heart to slow. He didn’t want Maeghara to know he had been so frightened. For a long time Derubeis sat in silence, staring into the fire with her white cloth pressed to her lips.</p><p> </p><p>“We will talk of this again Mega. Before we reach Et-Banotaj.” She said softly, her voice a mix of fear and something else.</p><p> </p><p>“We will talk of many things Rubi.” Maeghara answered. Dee-Ann sat in silence. And for the first time since he had been saved from the Village, he wondered if among all these things in this wide, wide world he did not know; if it was possible for there to be something <em>worse</em> than the Woman and her dogs.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. In Todorok Village</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Dean begins to understand what it was that Maeghara saw in him back in his Village.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm going back to the Two Chapter per character system. It feels a little choppy going on for one.  Also props for the first person who can tell me who the familiar face is that shows up this chapter.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They reached Todorok village, a finger before Highsun the next day. There was so much strangeness to behold. Dee-Ann stared and stared. First was Todorok’s Godpost. It looked new. Untouched by harsh Sunshine, and unsplinted by winter windstorms. Twice as tall as the Godpost he’d left behind in the village, it was painted bright God colors. Purple and green and gold. Scorpions carved from shiny black crystal crawled around and around, leading up to the white crow at its top; carrying messages to the God. The Godbowl at its base was a Scorpion too, heavy black iron; tail raised; claws outstretched and its belly was full of coin.</p><p> </p><p>Maeghara dropped coin into it as they passed, and pressed her knuckles to her breast in respect. So did Derubeis. Another slave gave its lifeblood to the sacrificial stone.</p><p> </p><p>Barely had he stopped marveling at the Godpost, than his breath was stolen a second time. Todorok village was big! It had wide streets covered in smooth stones and houses painted white. Their roofs were not made of grass. They had scales like a snake! The air was clean. It did not stink of goats and women. The villagers they passed wore brightly colored clothes, and coverings on their heads. Strange. They had flesh on their bones, and their skins were shiny and smooth. Not baked into cracked leather by endless sun. Some of them were he-brats, not chained in secret; but walking freely among them. No woman close to poke and strike. How could that be?</p><p> </p><p>Maeghara and Derubeis led the caravan to the center of the town; where the buildings opened up into a large square. Large buildings lined the square. One was a Godhouse, its doors and windows lined with stinging scorpions and striking snakes. Here were scattered bushes of flowers, and water bubbling inside a ring of white stone. Some of it splattering unused on the ground. Dee-Ann couldn’t believe it. If he had ever wasted so much the woman would not have waited for the Godspeaker. She would have broken his body herself and tossed it to her dogs.</p><p> </p><p>The villagers gathered and waved at them. They were pleased to see the Trader Caravan. A smiling Godspeaker stepped forward as Maeghara and Derubeis halted their caravan in front of the Godhouse. Not stooped and skinny this one. Her arms weren’t stringy, and her robes were clean. The scorpion shell bound to her forehead was uncracked and shiny. She had all her teeth and fingers.</p><p> </p><p>“Welcome Trader Maeghara! Trader Derubeis.” said the Godspeaker. “It is many seasons since you are seen in Todorok.”</p><p> </p><p>Maeghara ordered her camel to kneel, climbed down and snapped her fingers. Dee-Ann climbed down after her. “The God sends us where and when it desires Tulu Godspeaker. This far East good slaves grow thin on the ground like grain without nourishment. But we are here this highsun to trade for supplies and buy such flesh from you as promises us profit. If you have flesh to sell.”</p><p> </p><p>“I am certain there will be some.” Said the Godspeaker. “Let us wait in the Godhouse while word is sent to bring merchandise for your inspection. I will make sacrifice for your arrival.”</p><p> </p><p>Maeghara bowed. “The God sees you Godspeaker. And as we wait….” She took Dee-Ann’s arm, tugging him forward. “…You see this one? I wish it bathed and fed and dressed in cotton; with shoes on its feet and charm beads in its godbraided hair. For health and beauty and obedience. You will please me and the God to grant my desire. I will make an offering in return.”</p><p> </p><p>The Godspeaker remained silent for a moment, her hooded gaze falling to the scorpion on Maeghara’s cheek, before raising a sharp hand – sending the snake bone bracelet at her wrist to chattering. “Bisla!” she said. A short plump man emerged from the crowd, ivory amulets dangled from his ears, and his nakedness was hidden beneath robes too fine for any male surely.</p><p> </p><p>“Godspeaker?” he asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Maeghara wishes this one bathed and fed and dressed in cotton, with shoes upon its feet and charm beads for health and beauty and obedience in its godbraided hair.” The Godspeaker said, not looking at the man. “You and your brothers may honor her so.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes Godspeaker.” The man held out his hand. “Come child.”</p><p> </p><p>Dee-Ann looked up at Maeghara. “Go with him. Obey his wishes but hold your tongue. There is nothing to fear. You will return to me before we leave.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes Maeghara.” He said trusting her. Her word was her word. She kept him safe. The man and others, took him to a white house two streets away. Its lizard roof had scales of blue and yellow. Inside the floor was made of wood. Did so many trees grow anywhere to be cut down and turned into houses? And top of the wood were large squares of colored wool; soft beneath his feet. The men hurried him to a room with no windows. Sunk into its floor was a deep round hole, easily six woman paces across; lined with smooth stones. Stone steps led down into it. The man, Bisla, rang a bell. A moment later, a large slave appeared at the door. She was bare chested. She wore loose green trousers and red shoes with pointy toes.</p><p> </p><p>“Master?” she said, her hairless head bowed.</p><p> </p><p>“Hot water, fresh soap, cloths, brushes and combs.” Said the man Bisla. “A bead box, my hand mirror. Tunic and pantaloons from Deelie’s room. Cotton not linen or wool. And shoes.”</p><p> </p><p>“Master.” The slave said again and left the room.</p><p> </p><p>A wide wooden bench ran the length of one wall. The man Bisla and his brothers pushed Dee-Ann onto it. They stripped off the yellow robe Maeghara had given him. Dee-Ann would have shouted and snatched it back again, slapped the men for daring to touch Maeghara’s gift. But Maeghara had told him her word, so he just pinched is lips and let them take it.</p><p> </p><p>“Skinny! Skinny.” The man Bisla exclaimed, pointing at his ribs. “Does Maeghara not feed you child?”</p><p> </p><p>Maeghara had told him not to talk. He shrugged.</p><p> </p><p>“Is that yes or no?”</p><p> </p><p>Another shrug.</p><p> </p><p>“He’s afraid poor thing.” Said one of the other men.</p><p> </p><p>“I wonder who he is.” Said another one.</p><p> </p><p>“Not Maeghara’s get?” he arched thin eyebrows at the others as slaves led by the hairless woman entered the room bearing leather buckets of steaming water. "He is pale. Perhaps a Northern father?"</p><p> </p><p>"Or perhaps some desert flower? Even a body slave?" the other suggested. They laughed and chortled as if he had said something very funny.</p><p> </p><p>"Maeghara would never fuck with a slave. She has no need to. Any man in this village would give his eye teeth for her to take him to her thighs." the older brother said.</p><p> </p><p>"Who is to say what can happen on those long cold nights in a Caravan with no one to warm her bedroll. And all that ripe slave flesh ready to obey every command?" the younger brother said, his voice lilting and falling. The man Bisla frowned and shook his head.</p><p> </p><p>“Tcha! It is not needful to know these things.” He said.</p><p> </p><p>The hairless slave put down the items the man Bisla had ordered her to bring, and watched as the other slaves emptied their leather buckets into the hole. They left and returned many times, until the hole was filled almost to the top. They placed four full wooden buckets to one side and withdrew. The man Bisla placed a large cloth beside the hole, and on it placed a brush, a comb and a pale pink jar along with a pile of smaller cloths. He took off its lid. Inside was something soft and slippery, smelling like flowers. Amazed, Dee-Ann stared at the hole full of water. He was ye even more amazed when the man Bisla stripped off his clothes and walked down into it. The water reached up to his waist. Bisla reached out his hand.</p><p> </p><p>“Come child. Into the bath.”</p><p> </p><p>He shook his head. It was a stoning sin to put your body into water. Seasons and seasons ago, when he was a small he-brat; a girl in the village had lost her wit and put her body into the largest drinking well in the village. The Godspeaker had stoned her slowly. One small stone at a time. Leaving her face until last. The God’s wrath had been terrible, opening so many screaming mouths in that girl’s flesh, weeping so many blood tears over that girl's sin; it took only one stone in the eye to finish her.</p><p> </p><p>That dead girl was hung from the Village Godpost until she turned to leather. Then every dwelling in the village had to keep her under their roof for a Godmoon. Once every dwelling had housed her, that girl was returned to her family. And her family was driven onto the Anvil.</p><p> </p><p>Only a <em>fool</em> put his body in water.</p><p> </p><p>“Come child!” Bisla said again sounding impatient. “You are dirty and wretched and the Godspeaker will punish us if you are not presentable for Maeghara!”</p><p> </p><p>Dee-Ann shook his head. Bisla snapped his fingers at the other men, and they lifted him by his arms and dropped him shrieking and kicking into the water. It closed over his head, as though the God was swallowing him alive, rushed up his nose and down his throat. A haze as scarlet red as Maeghara’s scorpion flashed behind his screwed shut eyes. He thrashed to the surface, opened his mouth to scream but only water poured in.</p><p> </p><p>“Aaiiiieeeee you stupid child!” the man Bisla screamed. “Spit it up! Spit it up!”</p><p> </p><p>Dee-Ann spat and wretched and could breathe again. Making his legs strong he stood up straight. The water stopped at his shoulders. His unbraided hair was a wet matte plastered to his skin. He coughed and spluttered and his chest was on fire. But he wasn’t dead. Bisla dragged the sopping hair away from his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“This is Maeghara’s word! You must do as Maeghara commands!” Bisla said. Yes. Yes! The man Bisla was right. Above all things he must obey Maeghara. “It is a bath child! Surely you have had a bath before?” he asked crossly.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t think he has Bisla.” Said the shorter of his brothers. “The poor thing’s terrified.”</p><p> </p><p>“No wonder he’s so flinty if he’d never had a bath.” Said the other one. “Be gentle Bisla. If you frighten him he might complain to Maeghara or Tulu Godspeaker.”</p><p> </p><p>The man Bisla loosened his fingers and managed to smile. “Do not be afraid child. The water will not hurt you, and neither will we. You want to be clean don’t you?” Dee-Ann shrugged. The water sloshed against his skin, warm and inviting. All the tight places in his skin, his legs, his back that had knotted like goat hide rope with the camel riding were starting to unknot. This hot water was……was…..good? No. Good was a small word. He didn’t have a big enough word for what this was. He smiled.</p><p> </p><p>“There!” said Bisla, and pinched the end of his nose. “Soon you will feel wonderful. I promise.” And with his brothers’ help, Bisla poured the pink flower smelling stuff onto cloths and scrubbed Dee-Ann all over; even between his toes. More pink stuff was poured into his hair, so Bisla could scrub his hair. The pink stuff turned frothy like sadsa; but not white. Grubby brown, it floated on the water and stung his eyes. But it was only a small pain, and it was what Maeghara wanted. So he didn’t complain or fight. He gasped when one of the men poured a whole bucket of water over his head. Was astonished when his hair was scrubbed again, then again; until the froth at last was sadsa white. By then the water was cool, and he was feeling so soft; so floppy, it was all he could do to keep his legs straight. If he wasn’t careful he’d slide right back under the water. His wet hair was so heavy, his head wanted to tip backwards. If he let that happen it might snap off altogether.</p><p> </p><p>“There child. You are properly clean. Isn’t that better?” Bisla asked. Dee-Ann nodded. Properly clean was another thing too big for good. What had the man said? Wonderful.</p><p> </p><p>“Now we must somehow untangle that rats nest you call hair! Aaaiiiieeeee! Let us hope Maghara and Derubeis are in a haggling mood today. Or you’ll never be godbraided before they finished their business.” The man Bisla said, helping him out of the hole on his wobbly legs. His brothers wrapped him in a large soft cloth and pressed the water from his hair with more cloths. After that, all three men sat him on the floor. They seated themselves around him and began to tease at his damp hair. It <em>hurt</em>! Their busy fingers tugged and twisted. They made sharp sounds of annoyance and asked the God over and over to see them.</p><p> </p><p>“Has it ever been brushed?” grumbled the shortest brother. “I don’t think it has!”</p><p> </p><p>He was wrong. The man had brushed his hair sometimes when the Woman wasn’t looking. Not often though, and not for long.</p><p> </p><p>“How many godbraids does Maeghara want?” asked the other one, as his comb caught in another knot. Dee-Ann swallowed a cry of pain. He-brats who made noises like that were always sorry. "Even with the God’s help we won’t manage more than thirty before the haggling’s done! Will that be enough?”</p><p> </p><p>“If you waggle your fingers as fast as your tongue there’ll be plenty of godbraids when we give him back!” snapped Bisla. Dee-Ann yawned and closed his eyes. The hot water had left him sleepy. All nagging pains were lulled to silence. The knots were gone from his hair now. The men’s fingers whispered through it. Their light touched on his scalp, prickled over warm, clean, sweet smelling skin. The men chattered as they worked, talking of people in secret, village business. He let his mind drift, wondering about Maeghara and what she was doing.</p><p> </p><p>“There!” Bisla said at last, jerking him back to the room. You are godbraided. See?” he waggled his fingers, and the shortest brother gave him a polished silver disc on a carved wooden handle. Dee-Ann had never seen anything like it. “Look.” Said Bisla.</p><p> </p><p>“The God has blessed you child.” Said one of the brothers.</p><p> </p><p>Dee-Ann looked and saw a face. Even though it was against Maeghara’s word, he cried out. “Aaaaaiiiiieeeee!!!!!! Demon! Demon!” he cried. The man Bisla grabbed his wrist.</p><p> </p><p>“Demon? Silly child! That is no demon. That is you!” he said, holding up the silver disc. “This is a mirror! Have you never seen yourself?”</p><p> </p><p>Mirror? Heart pounding – all the warmth and softness in his body went cold and hard with fear – Dee-Ann shook his head.</p><p> </p><p>“He is a <em>savage</em> Bisla!” said the taller brother.</p><p> </p><p>“Where are you from child?” asked Bisla. “Where did Maeghara find you?”</p><p> </p><p>He shook his head again, lips pinched shut. The man sighed and held up the mirror. “Look.” He said, his voice coaxing now. “It will not harm you. How can it? The face in the mirror is yours!”</p><p> </p><p>He had never seen his face before. Never dreamed there was a way anyone <em>could</em>, or imagined why they would want to. He looked. Two green eyes, big and frightened, thick black lashes long enough to brush his skin. High cheekbones, hollow cheeks. A wide mouth with plump pink lips. A softly pointed chin. All these face parts the Man had shown him, touching his own and saying the words over and over until he remembered. He could see the Man’s face in the mirror, and the Woman’s too; muddled together to make Dee-Ann. Framing Dee-Ann’s face were his godbraids. Fascinated, he watched his fingers touch the bright red and green beads the women had woven into his thick yellow hair. They fell around his shoulders and halfway down his back. His godbraids weren’t like Maeghara’s. They were fatter, and looser, and they didn’t hold as many charms. When they reached Et-Banotaj, he would as her to give him godbraids like hers. She would do that for him. He was precious.</p><p> </p><p>The man Bisla’s finger stroked his cheek. “You are very beautiful child. Do you understand?”</p><p> </p><p>No. But the man was smiling. Did that make <em>beautiful</em> a good thing? He wanted to know. Maeghara had said no speaking. But these words were in service of her. So…</p><p> </p><p>“Beautiful please Maeghara?” he asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes! Of course! Beautiful pleases every woman.” The man said. He let himself smile. Pleasing Maeghara was all that mattered. In the mirror he saw his teeth. Pure white in his clean and beautiful face.</p><p> </p><p>“Now you must dress child!” Bisla said. “Maeghara will be waiting.”</p><p> </p><p>The tunic and pantaloons they put on him weren’t soft and silken and slippery like Maeghara’s gift had been. But they felt good all the same. They were colored dark green, with gold and red thread around the neck and the wrist and the ankle. They sat on his skin lightly, and rustled when he moved.</p><p> </p><p>“Look at his feet!” said the older brother frowning. “The soles are like leather. Does he even need shoes?”</p><p> </p><p>“Shoes are Maeghara’s word. In his shoes, the soles will soften over time. He has pretty, slender feet. They must be protected.” Said Bisla. Dee-Ann frowned. In the village, only men had clothed their feet.  He wriggled as his toes were imprisoned.</p><p> </p><p>“Tch! Tch! Would you disobey Maeghara?” Bisla asked rapping him across the shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>Never! Maeghara had saved him from the Woman and the Village. She was more real to him than the God!</p><p> </p><p>The men led him out of the lizard house with its blue and yellow roof after that, back to the open place where the Caravan waited. The villagers had gone away. Now it was just Obid and her guards, keeping watch over the merchandise. A group of Todorok slaves waited in the village space; naked and chained. Dee-Ann stared hard at them as he waited for Maeghara’s return. But none of these slaves looked precious or beautiful.</p><p> </p><p>‘Not like me’ he thought. He counted to woman slaves, three men and four girls. No he-brats. They were taller and darker skinned than the people of his village. Their features were wider, on the whole they were shorter and stockier. One of the men was even fat. Now that he was closer Dee-Ann could see he was young. Only a little older than Dee-Ann himself. He did not carry himself like the other slaves. His hair too was different, he had no red slave braid. He had no godbraids at all. Rather his hair stood away from his head in a thatch of wiry black curls. Dee-Ann had seen this before in the village, when the Godspeaker had punished a village girl by shearing off her godbraids and offering them to the God. The man-boy had water in his eyes and running down his cheeks. He was crying. Dee-Ann scoffed. Wasting water. For what purpose? He was stupid to cry. Did he think tears would melt the chains from his wrists and ankles? Why did he not sit proudly? Prove to Maeghara that he was worthy of her coin. He looked up at Dee-Ann with a pathetic expression. His eyes were blue and clear.</p><p> </p><p>Dee-Ann looked back unwavering, before pointedly driving his eyes away when Maeghara came out of the Godhouse with Derubeis and the Godspeaker.</p><p> </p><p>And he didn’t stare anywhere but at Maeghara’s stern face. When she saw him Maeghara smiled and crossed the open village space. Her long fingers dipped inside her robe and she dropped three bronze coins into the hands of the man Bisla. “You have pleased me and the God” she said.</p><p> </p><p>“Go now Bisla, and your brothers. Tend your women folk and your hearths.” Said the Godspeaker. The men and his brothers nodded and walked away. Maeghara looked to Derubeis who went to the pack camel, and from its panniers pulled a stout wooden box, crisscrossed with leather lacings. Strung on lacings were so many charms and amulets the box looked infested. Derubeis carried the heavy box to Maeghara, who beckoned one of the slave guards to her. Without needing to be told, the woman kneeled and made herself into a table. Derubeis put the box on the guard’s back and together – with great care – she and Maeghara began to unlace it.</p><p> </p><p>Each charm, and amulet had to be touched with fingers or lips or tongue, or a charm pulled from a pocket or set into a ring. With every touch, a wisp of green Godsbreath drifted into the air. Only when the Godsbreath was blown away, was the charm or amulet safe to unstring from its leather thong, and only then if the <em>right</em> woman had touched it <strong>and</strong> in the right order. If the wrong woman tried to unlace the box, she would die a horrible death. This was how the Traders protected their wealth, Maeghara had explained on the road. Even though Traders were beloved of the God, women were sometimes foolish and thought they could steal from Trader caravans. Or sometimes Traders fell into misfortune and they perished, and their money was found beside their bodies. That money by the God’s law must be returned to the Trader’s city, but if it was not protected by Godsworn Trader charms, a woman might not do her duty and try to keep that money and spend it for herself.</p><p> </p><p>Dee-Ann marveled that women could be so <em>wicked</em>.</p><p> </p><p>The Godspeaker Tulu had brought a large basket with her from the Godhouse. When the last of the Godsbreath was blown from the amulet, and all the box’s leather lacings undone to reveal its heavy burden of coin; Maeghara poured silver and bronze coins into the basket. Last of all she took a single black purse from the box and added three gold coins to the silver and bronze. When she was fiished, there was more air than money in the unlaced wooden box. The Godspeaker Tulu nodded, and handed her laden basket to slave from the Godhouse.</p><p> </p><p>Derubeis closed the leather lid and relaced all the box’s many lacings, threading them with the charms and amulets. Her fingers moved swiftly, surely and with consummate skill. Dee-Ann marveled at how she remembered every amulet and charm and its proper position. Maeghara stood quietly, watching with a small smile curving her lips. Just as Derubeis finished, the Godspeaker stepped forward carrying a large scorpion carved from some shiny black stone and banded in strips of bronze. Derubeis stood back.</p><p> </p><p>The Godspeaker placed the scorpion on the lead of the leather laced box, stood back and closed her eyes. It seemed to Dee-Ann that the whole world went silent.</p><p> </p><p>“Breathe God.” Said the Godspeaker Tulu in a voice like distant thunder. A moment later, the markings inked into her skin began to glow with a the same blue-green light Dee-Ann had seen flare from the stone when the slave lay dying upon it. The glow crawled up the Godspeaker’s arm, painting all her tattoos with the same glow, until it settled in her eyes – stretched wide – and looking without seeing in her head. Her body rippled snakelike and Dee-Ann thought she was about to bring up her food. But when she opened her mouth, the same light shone from within her.</p><p> </p><p>A thick mist of the same glowing green-blue oozed from her lips, twisting and curling until it touched the carved scorpion and settled over the box and its many amulets. For a moment, Dee-Ann could swear he saw the carved Scorpion move, but he couldn’t see for the smoke; which had begun soaking into charms and amulets as if they were breathing it in. The guard who was a table, shuddered and groaned; but did not collapse. Blood dripped from her open mouth to splash on the ground beneath her.</p><p> </p><p>Only when each charm and amulet and lacing on the box had been drenched with the mist did it begin to dissipate, and the eerie glow of the Godspeaker’s tattoos vanished.</p><p> </p><p>“The God has breathed.” The Godspeaker announced her voice returned to normal, and picked up the scorpion, once the mist had stopped curling. “Merchandise has passed between us. Payment is given. Payment is taken. Our business is done.”</p><p> </p><p>“Our business is done.” Echoed Maeghara and Derubeis at once, before Derubeis returned the box to its pannier.</p><p> </p><p>“It has been a good trading.” Maeghara said to the Godspeaker.</p><p> </p><p>“Travel safely in the God’s Eye Trader Maeghara. I will not ask when you will pass this way again. Such things are not fit for a Village Godspeaker to know.” Said the Godspeaker, dabbing this tip of her robe at a drop of blood trickling from the corner of her mouth.</p><p> </p><p>“Well do you know our ways Tulu Godspeaker.” Maeghara said, her small smile growing wider. Dee-Ann wondered if they were friends. If it was possible not to fear and cower in the presence of a Godspeaker. Maeghara must be a very special sort of a person to number among her friends a chosen of the <em>God</em>!</p><p> </p><p>“But be wary as you travel the roads through Et-Jokriel.” The Godspeaker said with warning in her voice.</p><p>“Why say you this?” Maeghara asked, leaning closer.</p><p> </p><p>They seem to both have forgotten that Dee-Ann was still standing there, and could hear everything they were saying. And for once he was glad. He was curious to know what secret these women were sharing.</p><p> </p><p>“These are strange times.” The Godspeaker said frowning. “Green fields turn brown. And where water once flowed freely, in places now it trickles. Where there was water, now it is dirt. We are many Godmoons past the beginning of the season of the thunder waters. Yet you see, the sky is blue above us; and Todorok has not seen rain in many Godmoons. Crops wither in the sun. And slaves have died by the fist.”</p><p> </p><p>“We have noticed this browning on the road traveling here.” Maeghara said with a nod.</p><p> </p><p>“We have heard whispers from our sister Godhouses deeper into this province. Jokriel Warlord dreams of grain in her empty barns. She sends her warriors over the borders to raid and fight her sister warlords. Jokriel is not the only land that has been so affected. Hammers ring on anvils Maeghara. Bloodshed rides the wind.” The Godspeaker said, her face stone hard. And Dee-Ann felt himself grow uneasy.</p><p> </p><p>“We will be wary.” Maeghara said bowing. “The God see you Tulu Godspeaker. The God see you in its eye.”</p><p> </p><p>They left the village then, with a handful of new slaves chained to the tail of the snake and poked to walking by Obid’s sharp spear. When Todorok was behind them, Derubeis looked to Maeghara in fear. “You heard the Godspeaker Mega. Bloodshed rides the wind. Aaaiiiiiieeeee!!!! How bad have things become since we started our Caravan?”</p><p> </p><p>“The God alone knows.” Said Maeghara. “Hold your tongue Rubi. We will talk of this below the stars when only you and I are listening.”</p><p> </p><p>“Maeghara?” Dee-Ann said, wanting to know; but she pressed her palm to his shoulder. Next she looped a thong of leather around his neck. On it hung an amulet. A beautiful snake’s eyes of the purest blue. He snatched it up with a gasp. “Maeghara!”</p><p> </p><p>“You must wear this always. While you wear it the God will see you in its eye.” She said.</p><p> </p><p>Never in his life had he possessed anything as wonderful or so beautiful. Precious! He touched it to his lips. “Yes Maeghara.” He whispered.</p><p> </p><p>“Such extravagance!” Derubeis scolded. “And after we were paid too little for the pish and charged too much for these Todorok Slaves. With all your unnecessary spending it would have been better if you had paid Tule Godspeaker to give it a slave braid instead of--”</p><p> </p><p>“No.” Maeghara said flatly. “The God does not desire this.”</p><p> </p><p>“And does the God desire to see us reduced to seven bronze coins and a single camel?!” Derubeis whined making a gobbling sound. “Aaaaiiiiieeeee!!!! You try me Mega. You try me sorely. I will barter next time.”</p><p> </p><p>Meh! Meh! Me-e-e-e-eh! More goat words from stupid Derubeis. Dee-Ann did not listen. Maeghara had spent coin to buy him an amulet to keep him in the God’s Eye. He was precious. She cared for him. He cared for her too. He felt a new feeling in his chest for which he had no name, shy and unfurling like a seed in dirt.</p><p> </p><p>She was the only breathing thing he had ever cared for.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Dun! Dun! DUUUUUUUUUUNNNNNNNN! Ha ha! Just kidding. Mostly.</p><p>Anybody esle notice that the God Dean is being exposed to and the fluffy warm light Castiel worships seem a bit like two different things?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. The Truthsayer</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Castiel has a mysterious visitor and learns what could be the most important lesson of his life. But will he have the wisdom to listen?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The doors at the top of the stairs blasted open and Castiel practically ran through them; his retinue of slaves, guards and body servants trailing behind him like some infernal comet. He could hear several voices calling his name and speaking to him but he was deaf to them. He felt a hand on his arm and he wrenched it free violently. His motion caused his skirts to swish and billow out behind him but he couldn’t slow his desperate pace. As soon as he saw him coming Tran’s face morphed into a mask of concern.</p><p> </p><p>“Castiel?” he asked stepping forward with arms outstretched to meet him.</p><p> </p><p>“Keep them out!” Castiel all but sobbed as he ran into his chambers. Behind him, he could hear Tran barking orders the guards posted at his door arguing with the small army of people trying to gain access.</p><p> </p><p>No sooner was he safely hidden behind the doors of his chambers than Castiel began tearing at his outfit. Comportment and protocol be damned. He needed to be free of this now. His hands clumsily found combs in his hair which he tore free. They fell from his hands. He couldn’t breathe. Gasping for air, he pulled at his stomacher to no avail. The infernal lacings were too tight. Defeated, he fell to the floor, giving himself over to wracking sobs and desperate sniffling breaths. His eyes swam and his heart hammered against his ribs. The tightness in his stomach, in his chest, in his head….it was too much! He tried one last time to draw breath into his none; but there was none. He felt himself fall head first as if into a great swirling void.</p><p> </p><p>He did not resurface…</p><p> </p><p>*    *     *</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <span class="u">Nineteen days earlier:</span> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Castiel made a sound of unmitigated pleasure as his feet were freed from the boots. His ankles cracked as he wriggled his feet around, squirming his toes into the furs laid around the stool he was in. His heavy gown had already been handed off to the slaves for sponging; and Tran was working on his hair. Castiel offered a golden hand for him to place all manner of combs and pins and clips into. It never ceased to amaze him how quickly it went to destroy something it had taken hours to build. He swallowed a belch, Freed from the stomacher his appetite had roared within him like a flame. As soon as he was in private he had gorged himself on little treats and morsels laid out on a tray. He was careful not to eat too much. He had to suffer through a new costume and the feast that evening. But a few proper mouthfuls had done him a world of good. Once the boots were off, it was child’s play to strip him the rest of the way. And once Tran had undone all the annoying little braids and intricate knotwork in his hair he was only too thrilled to let Tran wrap him in a silk robe and guide him towards the bath.</p><p> </p><p>Tran banished everyone else from the room and shut the doors. Castiel all but dove into the warm water, feeling his aching muscles sing and as all the bruised places relaxed.</p><p> </p><p>“That was the quite the show you put on today.” Tran said disrobing so he could follow Castiel into the bath. “You’re the talk of the Palace.”</p><p> </p><p>“Am I?” Castiel said as Tran began scrubbing the gold off his hands.</p><p> </p><p>“Mmmm hmm.” Tran affirmed. “I’m told Gabriel plans to join you after he’s changed just so he can show you he’s not speaking to you.” He continued with a smirk. It was usual for them – when they were alone like this – for Tran to forgo all pretence of protocol and station. Sometimes Castiel thought it was the only time anyone ever spoke to him like he was actual person.</p><p> </p><p>“Somehow I’ll manage to endure it.” Castiel smiled. His eyes stung as the paint ran into them, and he fell backwards – guided by Tran’s hand behind his head – under the surface of the water so Tran could wipe at his face with a rough cloth.</p><p> </p><p>“Are people really talking about me?” Castiel asked a little worried, remembering the way The Queen had stared at him with such malice. He gathered his hair and coiled it above his head to Tran could wash his back and under his arms.</p><p> </p><p>“You and that delicious Southern Princess.” Tran added with a raised eyebrow. Castiel rolled his eyes at him. “All the Palace slaves are abuzz about her. And of course the way their men were dressed.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes that was interesting.” Castiel said and meant it. “I’ve…never seen one.”</p><p> </p><p>“No one has. Even the Southern women go their lives without seeing the face of their males, save their own husbands. They guard their men’s beauty fiercely so don’t get any ideas.” Tran said.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you think they hide their faces because they’re <em>not</em> beautiful? Maybe they’re hideous or malformed….” Castiel speculated.</p><p> </p><p> “Such things are beyond a simple Body Servant like me. And even a Prince like you. You’ll make trouble for all of us if you let your curiosity get the better of you.” Tran chided softly, punctuating the statement with a weak slap to Castiel’s left ass cheek.</p><p> </p><p>“I have far more pressing concerns regarding this morning. Sneaking a glimpse under some southerner’s veil is hardly at the top of my list.” Castiel said working his jaw. His skin felt tight after being half frozen by the chalk paste all morning.</p><p> </p><p>“Stop it.” Tran said.</p><p> </p><p>“Stop what?” Castiel asked innocently.</p><p> </p><p>“I know that look.” Tran said ominously.</p><p> </p><p>“And what pray tell, look; is that?” Castiel asked staring at him from under his lashes.</p><p> </p><p>“The look you get when you’re plotting something. The one that says: “Tran. I’m about to do something <em>stupid</em> and I want you to help me.” <strong>That</strong> look.” Tran said miming Castiel horribly and finishing with a flourish of his fingers in front of Castiel’s face. Castiel nipped at his fingers as if he were going to bite him.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not plotting anything….” Yet “….I swear.” Castiel said.</p><p> </p><p>“Good. Now off with you. You’ll want a nap before the Mima gets here. It’s going to be a late night for all of us and you have your lesson with Kufu in the morning.</p><p> </p><p>Later that night:</p><p> </p><p>Castiel went from dead sleep to full awake in the space between one heartbeat and the next. Awareness flooded in. After the feast he’d foregone closing his bed curtains. It was an unseasonably warm night in the Palace, and the stones of his bed chamber bore that cooled-sweat feeling they acquired before a change in the weather.</p><p> </p><p>He lay with his eyes closed, feigning sleep. He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end and he shivered as he felt ridges of goose bumps erupt over his shoulders and down his arms. Like scales of fear spreading over his sweat slick skin.</p><p> </p><p>It was instinct. Something primal. A marrow deep certainty that he was under threat. That nameless feeling like an animal knowing a storm was brewing on the horizon. That made birds take flight and a tortoise to retract into its shell. The unspoken sense that kept villagers close to the fireside at night. The feeling that screamed….</p><p> </p><p>Predator.</p><p> </p><p>There was someone in his bed chamber.</p><p> </p><p>Staring at him.</p><p> </p><p>Through slitted eyes he could just make out two shapes in the firelight. A woman, and a man. The old woman was a witch shadow, nothing but round hooded darkness for features. But even within the hood he could see her eyes like glittering jewels.</p><p> </p><p>“Is he not small for his age Kufu?” the old woman asked, her voice a soft contralto.</p><p> </p><p>“His Blood are known to start late getting their growth, your Reverence.” He heard the unmistakable voice of Godspeaker Kufu reply, voice twanging like an unturned harp.</p><p> </p><p>“So I’ve heard.” She said. “Yet he is already twelve.”</p><p> </p><p>“Soon to be thirteen Your Reverence.” Kufu supplied.</p><p> </p><p>“He is awake and listening to us.” Said the old woman. “Sly little rascal.” She chuckled. “But Royalty has a need of slyness. Even males.” She said taking one step further into the room. And suddenly Castiel felt as if she were leaning over him where he lay. “Sleep well little rascal. You’ll need all your strength about you in the days to come.”</p><p> </p><p>His mind reeled. What was happening tomorrow? Who was this woman?</p><p> </p><p>He thought of the way the Godspeaker had referred to her as Your Reverance, and how she in turn had referred to him simply as <em>Kufu</em> as if he were some common serving slave.</p><p> </p><p>Sleep wrapped around him again.</p><p> </p><p>*    *     *</p><p> </p><p>Three days passed quickly in a sea of activity and hustle and bustle around the Palace. The Queen and her most trusted advisors along with the High Godspeaker and several important nobles spent their days behind locked doors with the Southern Delegates; and in the evenings they were entertained in any number of ways. The palace Bards sang themselves hoarse even as the musicians played until their fingers bled; and the kitchen fires blazed all through the night.</p><p> </p><p>By the morning of the third day, Castiel was more than half convinced the apparition of the old woman had been a dream. And it comforted him.</p><p> </p><p>He woke lazily when the slave came into his chamber to light the fire, followed closely by Tran. “Light see you Castiel. Castiel?” he asked louder. Castiel answered him with a non-committal sound. “Don’t dawdle. We have to get you dressed.”</p><p> </p><p>“The dawn is barely upon us?” Castiel asked frowning. It was unusual for him to woken so abruptly. He looked down at Tran. There was a definite air of tension to his shoulders as he busied himself laying out a tray with steaming water and tea. Castiel rubbed at his eyes before as he descended the stairs from his bed, blessing the slaves and receiving their blessings in return before seating himself on the divan to have a sip of the tea Tran handed him. He groaned. Several parts of his body complained just as loudly at being awoken from sleep. His face felt raw from all the paint and scrubbing over the last few days, his feet splintered in agony when he walked and he had thumb thick bruises all along his ribs from being too tightly laced into his stomacher for too long.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll wear the blue.” Castiel said to the slave setting out clothing for him to wear in his dressing rooms.</p><p> </p><p>“A thousand apologies my Lord, but the Blue one’s hem was torn. It is yet to be mended.” The salve said.</p><p> </p><p>“The pink then.”  Castiel said sniffing around another yawn. He tossed his sleep braid over his shoulder. His scalp ached from all the intricate constructions his Mima had been weaving his hair into. Castiel was certain he’d be bald as a babe by the time this was done.</p><p> </p><p>“It is damp my Lord. I have just finished sponging it.” The young slave said tentatively as if nervous for having to deliver such news.</p><p> </p><p>“Prepare the red. And be quick!” Tran ordered sharply from the side, forking cold meat onto to plate for Castiel with some dried berries. His tone surprised even Castiel, and the slave boy jumped to complete his task. Castiel waited for Tran to say something, but he didn’t. Tran’s abruptness was confusing. Today was to be the first day when things would calm a little. The Queen was setting off to the Mountains on a Hunting Party with the women of the Delegation. They would be gone for two days at least.</p><p> </p><p>“Tran?” he asked but got no response beyond a quick: ‘<em>finish your tea’</em>.</p><p> </p><p>“<strong>Tran.</strong>” he said finally, when his friend refused to meet his eyes. His voice was not raised, but it was firm. Tran looked at him before straightening up. He said something in a language Castiel didn’t understand, but he’d heard Tran say it enough times that its meaning was plain as milk. It was the word Tran used when he wanted all the other slaves to disperse.</p><p> </p><p>“Light blind me Tran what’s gotten into you?” Castiel asked when they were alone. Tran knelt at his feet looking a mixture of flustered and worried.</p><p> </p><p>“Godspeaker Kufu is waiting for you in the Morning Room.” He whispered earnestly.</p><p> </p><p>“Now?” Castiel asked with a frown. “But I thought all lessons were suspended for the……?”</p><p> </p><p>“He’s not here to teach you. He’s here to escort you. I heard the slaves talking. There was a palanquin the night of the Welcome Feast. It came through the Mud Gate, bearing someone of great importance apparently. Godspeaker Kufu welcomed them personally with only a single guard. Rumor has it it’s a Reverend Mother.”</p><p> </p><p>Castiel felt the blood drain from his face. A <em>Truthsayer</em>? Here? For the last three days? His mind flirted briefly with his dream and he shivered.</p><p> </p><p>“Who told you this?” he asked.</p><p> </p><p>“A cleaning slave who works in the North Tower. He was told that night after the banquet to prepare a bed chamber. And this morning he was given some very strange things to put in the ante-room.” Tran explained.</p><p> </p><p>“Like what?” Castiel asked, setting down the forkful of meat he was eating. It had turned to ash in his mouth.</p><p> </p><p>“He did not know.” Tran said. “But all the guards have been sent away between here and the North Tower. When I brought up your tray I saw none but those guarding your door. And movement around this entire wing of the Palace has been severely restricted.” Tran said. Castiel took one long breath to calm himself then rose to sit in front of the mirror. He suddenly understood why Tran had chosen the red for him to wear. Aside from being a striking color with his light skin and dark hair, it came with a leather bodice that was almost a breastplate. And Castiel was surely going into battle.</p><p> </p><p>“What could she want with me?” Castiel asked.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know. But I don’t like it. The timing is suspicious. She’s been here for days but she’s waited until the Queen and her Honor Guard are no longer in the Palace before making her presence known.” Tran said busying himself brushing out Castiel’s long hair.</p><p> </p><p>“There’s only one way to find out……” Castiel said affecting a confidence he did not feel. “Send them in.”</p><p> </p><p>The next minutes are lost in a flurry of activity. The Mima was not needed. Castiel would not be seen in public today, so at least his face would be <em>mostly</em> spared. But his hair would not be so lucky. Under the premise of speed, he urged the Body Slave who dressed it to opt for something simpler; wincing as it was pulled tight from his face and woven into a tight knot at the back of his head; leaving the rest of his hair to fall heavily down his back. He dressed as quickly as possible, letting Tran lace him into the leather bodice and settling the long cape like sleeves so they fell properly over the leather gauntlets that covered him from wrist to elbow. He waved away the slave who brought jewelry. He wanted nothing but his small Godstone. His entire ensemble was dark leather, all deep browns on the harness and oxblood trousers; save for the sleeves and divided skirts which were flaming scarlet as they fell about his legs and trailed batlike behind him as he swept out of his chambers into the Morning Room where the Godspeaker was waiting.</p><p> </p><p>“Light see you Kufu Godspeaker.” Castiel said as he entered.</p><p> </p><p>“Light see you Prince Castiel.” The Godspeaker grated.</p><p> </p><p>He was a hard, lean man; with honey colored stubble that receded from his face in two palm sized bays. Excess skin sagged beneath small eyes and around a weak mouth which was too wide for the sunken jaw. But the feature which assailed Castiel’s eyes above all else was his skin. Moon white and translucent enough to allow nests of veins to be seen just beneath the surface; the scorpion scars on his face and the back of his hands were raised ridges of livid pink against the ink black of the scared spells tattooed into his skin. He looked more like some kind of ghost than a man standing there.</p><p> </p><p>In his dark Godspeaker robes, next to Castiel’s blazing red costume; he seemed almost to glow. His <em>otherness</em> was only made more apparent by the fact that he was taller than Castiel by a full head and a hand. More details became apparent as Castiel looked up at him. The Scorpion amulet at his forehead – its raised tail weeping a ruby of poison – had been polished to a high shine.  And he wore a necklace fashioned from the skeleton of a snake; its striking mouth with its wicked teeth curling beneath his chin.</p><p> </p><p>He’d dressed himself to show his station as one of the Palace Godspeakers, and Castiel wondered who this Truthsayer was that he should so direly wish to impress her.</p><p> </p><p>“Follow.” Said the Godspeaker. “it will not do to keep the Reverend Mother waiting.”</p><p> </p><p>“What does she wish of me?” Castiel asked.</p><p> </p><p>“You will learn that soon enough. Now come.” The Godspeaker said in a whirl of robes and crackling bones.</p><p> </p><p>Castiel schooled his face and did as he was told. He knew better than to ask questions as he was led through the hallways, down staircases and through a winding back alley of passages that would allow him to travel around the Palace without being seen by any of the Courtiers or Nobles.</p><p> </p><p>“Kufu Godspeaker.” He said finally, as they rounded the corner to the small bed chamber in the North Tower. It was a strange place for someone of such apparent eminence to be housed. Guests of any caliber were always housed in the newer and far more elaborate West Wing; with its bubbling fountains and colored glass galleries that painted the world in every color imaginable. The North Wing was older, less ornate and – Castiel knew but did not suspect many did – had once been the Palace prison. As such it hardly offered much in the way of luxury, and the windows were barely wide enough for a master archer to loose a single arrow. As such it was nowadays usually reserved for lower ranking political guests, or the younger siblings and retinues of important women housed elsewhere.</p><p> </p><p>“I implore you. Tell me of this Truthsayer?” He asked. He didn’t like to admit it, but he was afraid of meeting her. Despite the fact that there was a Truthsayer – or Dreamweaver as their order was officially known – in every court and important household in Et-Novakar and as best he knew throughout the civilized world; barely anything was <em>known</em> about their order beyond the simple fact of their existence. They were known as keen advisers and often called <em>Spiders</em> – perhaps a touch cruelly - due to their secretive nature and misunderstood <em>powers</em>. Unlike the Godspeakers who performed their miracles in service of the Light; little was known of what all Dreamweavers were capable. And while this mystery added to their legend, it also made them the subject of much distrust and speculation.</p><p> </p><p>“You are not to use that word again. And <em>never</em> in the presence of the Reverend Mother. Answer all her questions honestly. And don’t try to keep things from her. She will know if you do and there will be consequences.” Said the Godspeaker.</p><p> </p><p>“Why would I want to keep things from her?” Castiel asked confused. “Do I even have anything worth keeping?”</p><p> </p><p>“If that is so then you have nothing to fear.” The Godspeaker said, pulling at Castiel’s sleeves and adjusting his godstone so it hung properly. “Try to remember that you are the son of a Queen, and conduct yourself accordingly.”</p><p> </p><p>‘He’s nervous.’ Castiel thought to himself.  Next to him, the Godspeaker nodded at the guards and one of them pushed open the heavy oak door into the small rooms beyond.</p><p> </p><p>The Reverend Mother Ravenna Duaiv Mac-Leire sat in a tapestried chair, the folds of her long black garments spilling to the floor like oil. The room was dark, Castiel noted. All the curtains had been tightly drawn and there was no fire lit in the hearth. The only source of light came from two lamps hanging behind her suspended from the ceiling and even these had not been lit fully. The flames of the candles within sent a mosaic of light and dark dancing across the walls. Clay urns had been positioned all around the room. Wine perhaps, but most likely lamp oil. He thought that was strange considering the darkened state of the room. But the brunt of his focus remained on the woman in front of him.</p><p> </p><p> As he looked at her, her hands – scrawny and wrinkled, with nails painted black and long enough to almost be claws – reached up to pull back her hood. The narrow face revealed by the effort was like a witch caricature drawn by a child. Sunken cheeks and an overlong nose, her skin appeared yellowed, like parchment and was mottled with veins. Her eyes were the color of rain and appeared sharp and keen; her narrow mouth pulled into a hard line. Her hair had been braided in a halo around her head, with the full length of it left to cascade down her front. It was gray and coarse hair like matted spiderwebs.</p><p> </p><p>Next to him, the Godspeaker bowed from the waist; and Castiel sketched her the curtsy his dancing master had taught him: ‘<em>For when you are unsure of a person’s station.</em>’</p><p> </p><p>The Reverend Mother smirked. “He is a cautious one Kufu.” She said in a voice that reminded Castiel of a blade on a wetstone. Her words were tinged with the remnants of an accent, but Castiel did not know from where.</p><p> </p><p>“Thus he has been taught.” The Godspeaker said.</p><p> </p><p>"Teaching is one thing," she said, "the basic ingredient. Application is another.”</p><p> </p><p>“Step forward boy. Let me look at you.” She said after a moment. Castiel found himself obeying the command before he even think. “Hmmmm. Your father has given you his face. But your mother has given you her eyes.”</p><p> </p><p>“And her courage.” Castiel said feeling fidgety under the weight of her scrutiny.</p><p> </p><p>“We shall see." The old eyes darted a hard glance at the Godspeaker. "Leave us Kufu. I wish to speak with the boy alone.”</p><p> </p><p>“Reverence.” Said the Godspeaker, before backing out of the room and closing the doors a moment later; leaving Castiel alone with the Truthsayer.</p><p> </p><p>Castiel faced the old woman, holding anger in check. "Does one simply <em>dismiss</em> a Godspeaker as though he were a common servant?"</p><p> </p><p>“He <em>was</em> a servant. <strong>My</strong> servant. And a good one too. Until the God saw fit to call him away…” she said flatly, drawing out the words. Castiel worked hard to school his face. He had never heard anyone speak so dismissively of the God. There was even a vague hint as if the old woman was annoyed that Kufu had been called thusly and she had lost a servant.</p><p> </p><p>“It was a sloppy casting you did in the Keep.” She said abruptly. “Another moment or two and you would have destroyed yourself. Or worse those around you.”</p><p> </p><p>“How did you….” He began but interrupted himself. “You were not in attendance.”</p><p> </p><p>“Do you really think I need eyes to see? Ears to hear?” she asked. He didn’t take her meaning but he didn’t know what to say.</p><p> </p><p>“You have gifts boy. That much is clear. But you haven’t the first idea what to do with them. Do you?” she said/asked. Again he did not know what she wanted him to say. So he said nothing.</p><p> </p><p>“Kufu tells me….you <em>dream</em>?” the old woman said, sliding out of her seat in one smooth motion, sending a heavy wave through the curtains of hair on either side of her face.</p><p> </p><p>“Doesn’t everyone?” he asked, looking over his shoulder as she started circling him.</p><p> </p><p>“Hardly.” She said with amusement in her voice. “Your dreams are different. You have sensed this.” She continued from directly behind him. There was no question in her voice.</p><p> </p><p>“Are they?” he asked keeping his voice neutral. Who was this woman? How did she know of his dreams?</p><p> </p><p>“Kufu dismisses them. To his peril.” She said having almost fade a full circle now, appearing in his vision again. “The same way he dismisses <em>you</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“The implication being that you do not?” Castiel asked, unable to keep a hint of mockery out of his voice. Whatever game this woman was playing at he didn’t find it amusing. He found himself despising her. Despising all of this. Something about the way the woman was looking at him, and the way she spoke as if she knew every thought in his mind. He felt stripped bare. Exposed. He hated her for her intractable gaze. He wanted her to scream. Or laugh. He couldn’t imagine it would make him like her any more. But anything had to be better than this calmness while he felt so off balance.</p><p> </p><p>“I haven’t lived as long as I have by ignoring signs that are clear as day.” She said smoothly when she came to stand in front of him. “Or by taking things at face value….”</p><p> </p><p>Her movement is so sudden he barely has time register what she was doing before she’d grabbed the nearest clay urn of oil and dashed it on the stone floor, smashing it and sending oil cascading over her robes and his skirts alike. The oil flowed thin and sharp smelling over the floor.</p><p> </p><p>“What the--” he began outraged but was silent when she reached into her robes with a wicked expression.</p><p> </p><p>The sound is not unlike a sigh as the shadows of the room seem to come alive and lance out at him, solidifying into wrist thick blades all about his head and body. Amazingly, he realizes that despite their wicked sharp points – the oil slick surface of the blade right under his chin actually reflecting his own terrified face back at him – none of them cut him. Instead, they held him perfectly in place. And standing up on his toes, he actually found a millimeter of wiggle room where the blades weren’t touching his skin.</p><p> </p><p>“I suggest you don’t move boy!” she said evilly, her lips peeling back to smile as she brought her claw-like hands from her robes. He could see a string of beads looped over her splayed fingers, stretched tight between her hands. He gasped. The beads were in the same pattern as the shadows around him.</p><p> </p><p>“What is this?!” he cried looking into her bird-bright eyes, fear shooting through him. He could not take his attention from the seamed old face, the glistening eyes, the pale gums around silvery metal teeth that flashed as she spoke.</p><p> </p><p>“It is a test. You should feel honored. We don’t usually administer it to He-Children of your line.” She said. “Too many disastrous results.”</p><p> </p><p>“Who are you?” he snarled through gritted teeth. “How did you trick Kufu into leaving me along with you? Are you an assassin from the Southern Delegation?”</p><p> </p><p>“Bah! The South? You don’t even think that boy!” she said pulling the beads tighter, and he felt several places where the blades kissed his skin.</p><p> </p><p>“Argh!” he bit down the cry of pain. “With one word I can summon the guards….” He clenched out.</p><p> </p><p>“If you thought they would get to me faster than I can kill you, you would have done so already.” She said with a cackle.</p><p> </p><p>He forced himself to calmness. “You miserable old hag!” he all but spat.</p><p> </p><p>“Old Hag?!” she repeated bearing her teeth again. “You have courage boy. I grant you that. Now free yourself.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why are you doing this?” he choked, feeling the blade at his throat cut deeper and a hot line of blood spill down over his collar.</p><p> </p><p>“An animal when trapped will chew through its own leg to escape and save itself.” She said her voice hissing like snake scales. “But a human would lay in wait and kill the trapper to save his kind. Which one are you?”</p><p> </p><p>“You <em>dare</em> to suggest a Prince of the Blood is an animal?” he growled.</p><p> </p><p>“I suggest you might be a human.” She said still smiling. “Free yourself boy. Kill me! Or I will kill you!”</p><p> </p><p>Everywhere the blades had cut him were points of fire on his arms, his legs, his neck. He felt his breath stuttering in his throat, but he couldn’t afford to panic now.</p><p> </p><p>“Lord of Light see me. Keep me in your Eye. Give me the strength to….” He uttered closing his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeeeeeeesssssss that’s it boy…….Pray.” she whispered and the blades cut deeper.</p><p> </p><p>He felt his blood boil, feeling <em>power</em> thrumming through him. He felt his tattoos begin to ignite all along his……his eyes widened, feeling the first sparks begin to form at his fingers. He was covered in oil, as was the entire floor. If it ignited it the old bitch would die, but so would he. And more…if he ignited all the other clay urns of oil the fire would be too large to contain. The entire room and who knows how much more of the North Tower would be set ablaze.</p><p> </p><p>With a shuddering sob, he released his power; resigned to his fate.</p><p> </p><p>“Kill me then.” He said meeting her gaze squarely. “You will have no sport from me. And may the Light burn your Soul into the seventh Hell…..” he said closing his eyes and letting his body go limp waiting for the blades to open his flesh and be done with it…</p><p> </p><p>*     *     *</p><p> </p><p>But it never came.</p><p> </p><p>He found himself on the floor which was completely free of any shards of clay. And looking around the room fiercely, he noticed that his clothes were dry; and finding the places where he’d been cut he discovered that all the wounds on his body had disappeared.</p><p> </p><p>He looked up to see the old Truthsayer sitting in her chair again regarding him. And somehow, he realized that she had been sitting there all along. Dreamweaver indeed.</p><p> </p><p>“You miserable…” he snarled.</p><p> </p><p>“I congratulate you boy. You have passed the test.” She said but he was deaf to her words.</p><p> </p><p>“When my mother hears of this she will……”</p><p> </p><p>“Tell you herself that she was the one who summoned me here to test you.” The woman said dismissively.</p><p> </p><p>“<strong>YOU LIE!</strong>” he yelled pushing himself to his feet, throwing his hair back over his shoulder with a powerful motion of his neck.</p><p> </p><p>“You know I speak truth.” She said pushing herself out of her seat. “Your mother survived this test when she was only a little older than you. But she failed to embrace the lesson behind it.”</p><p> </p><p>“What lesson?” he sneered. “It was all a trick.”</p><p> </p><p>“A trick?” she asked. “Hardly. The shadow blades may have been an illusion. But the oil in these urns is very real boy…” she continued, reaching into her robes and extracting a long bladed dagger. “As was the knife I would have plunged into your heart had you made the wrong choice.”</p><p> </p><p>“Castiel.” He said firmly. She looked at him strangely. “My name is Castiel. I’m not your <em>boy</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>She chuckled. “Hear me Castiel. Learn the lesson your mother ignored.”</p><p> </p><p>“Teach then.” He said.</p><p> </p><p>“And be damned to me! Ha!” she cackled again, a crisscross of wrinkles forming in her old face. “Very well then. That which submits….rules.”</p><p> </p><p>He felt the urge to slap her. All this he’d suffered for <em>that</em>? Her great lesson? His teeth bit into his lip so hard he tasted blood.</p><p> </p><p>“Think on my words Castiel.” The old woman said waving him away. “We will see each other again.”</p><p> </p><p>“Pray you do not.” He all but spat at her, whirling and making to stalk out of the room. But one thing nagged at him; enough to make him stop and turn. “The others? The other he-children you spoke of that you tested thusly? They tried and failed?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh no.” she said. “They tried and died.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Telling Stories</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Gabriel regales Castiel with tales to help him recover from his Visit with the Truthsayer, while Tran helps Castiel hatch a cunning plan to learn a few more of his conspirators secrets.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Castiel stormed out of the room and cannoned directly into the standing form of Godspeaker Kufu. As soon as he saw the ghost faced fool all the anger he felt towards the old woman flared to life within his veins!</p><p> </p><p>“You.” He growled scrambling to his feet.</p><p> </p><p>“Castiel I….” the Godspeaker began.</p><p> </p><p>“<strong>SILENCE!!! MY NAME IS DEAD ON YOUR FORKED TONGUE!</strong>” Castiel shouted pushing the Godspeaker back down to the ground. He kept his hands outstretched in front of him, his tattoos blazing to life; pure golden light shining from them and burning in his eyes. “Speak it again and I will see it put out! <em>Light blind you</em>! May it burn you in the sun! God <em>smite</em> you in your sleep!”</p><p> </p><p>Around them, the narrow hallway exploded into activity as all guards in the vicinity came running.</p><p> </p><p>“Your majesty?!” Tessa asked as they approached. She was flanked by two guards, who looked unsure of what to do; their hands poised on their swords. Castiel grimaced. It was a conundrum. It was not everyday a Prince of the Blood hurled a Godspeaker to the ground and began cursing him fluently. To draw arms on a Godspeaker was a stoning sin, but to do so against Castiel would mean certain death for their entire family.</p><p> </p><p>“Know this Kufu Godspeaker…..” Castiel said paying them no mind. “It is not in my power to see you banished from this Palace. But you have on this day committed treason against the Blood. You willfully endangered my life and revealed secrets about my person to that Spider!”</p><p> </p><p>“My Lord you must stop this……” Tessa said in an urgent voice. “He is a Godspeaker.” She said desperately.</p><p> </p><p>“The God would have protected you. The test was intended only to….” The tall man sputtered, but there was fear in his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“She drew a knife on me! A <em>Prince </em>of the Blood!” Castiel roared, his tattoos burning brighter, and refractions of light bounced off the armor of the guards to dance mysteriously about the room.</p><p> </p><p>“My Lord?” Tessa asked concerned, her head darting between the Godspeaker and the door.</p><p> </p><p>“I am fine. No thanks to you” Castiel said never taking his eyes from the Godspeaker. “But hear me. This man is not to be allowed near me. Or any person who is close to me. I do not wish to see him or hear him. And he is never to set foot in my chambers ever again.”</p><p> </p><p>“My Lord I…” Tessa began, but Castiel rounded on her fast enough that his hair cascaded all around him; gripping his skirts and hurling them around him in a flare; straightening up to his full height.</p><p> </p><p>“This is my <em>word</em>.” He said affecting an air of command. He knew he had backed her into a corner. Godspeakers enjoyed a special status and could not be treated like any other offender. But to openly refuse a royal command was treason. “You have failed me once today. Fail me in <em>this</em> and I’ll have the eyes of your children for beads in my hair.”</p><p> </p><p>“Majesty.” She said with a grave nod. It rankled her, being so scolded by what she must consider to be a child. A male child no less. He could see it written on her face. But <em>he</em> was a Prince and she was a nothing.</p><p> </p><p>“I will speak to your mother of this.” The Godspeaker hissed crawling back like a cockroach and raising himself to his feet. He meant to intimidate, towering over the enraged Castiel. But it was clear who had the better of this exchange.</p><p> </p><p>“So will I.” Castiel said defiantly.</p><p> </p><p>*     *     *</p><p> </p><p>“You did <strong><em>WHAT?!</em></strong>” Gabriel asked nearly dropped his glass of tea.</p><p> </p><p>“Well what would you have done in my stead?” Castiel asked still pacing. Gabriel had been waiting for him in his rooms when he returned, but for the moment he was too charged with anger to settle in his seat.</p><p> </p><p>“I think I should probably have found a solution that <em>didn’t</em> end in me threatening to put out the tongue of a <strong>Godspeaker</strong> – <em>and</em> your tutor no less…” Gabriel said speaking louder as Castiel walked into his dressing rooms. “…or wearing the eyes of children as beads.” He continued when Castiel walked back into the room. He pulled his face into a grimace of disgust.</p><p> </p><p>“Light see me little brother…where did you even hear such talk?” Gabriel asked snapping open his silken fan and batting it in front of his face and chest. His brother cut a fine figure where he sat, having draped himself languidly on a silver ottoman set at an angle to the fire. Gabriel wore a saffron gown lined in lake blue, over trousers, boots and an undershirt in the same color. The ensemble was a touch too fine for the daytime, not to mention revealing. Trimmed in fur, the neckline left a sumptuous display of shoulder and chest naked to the eye.</p><p> </p><p>“I have been reading the diaries of Anne Bonny. I confess they have rather expanded my vocabulary of cruelty. Some of the things that woman did…..” Castiel admitted. The diaries had offered a welcome distraction before bed every night. He didn’t explain that her exploits in the bed chamber took up just as much space on the page as those with a sword in her hand.</p><p> </p><p>“Who?” Gabriel asked.</p><p> </p><p>“No one. It’s not important.” Castiel said tugging at the lacings of his harness. He’d dismissed everyone from the room, but suddenly found his costume stiflingly hot.</p><p> </p><p>“You must make an offering in the Godbowl Castiel.” Gabriel said seriously. “And beg for forgiveness.”</p><p> </p><p>“I will not. If anyone must beg for forgiveness it…..” Castiel began but stopped when Gabriel raised his hands.</p><p> </p><p>“Speak no more! We shall revisit this when your spirits have cooled.” Gabriel said reaching for another cake. “But have a care brother. It will do you no favors locking horns with a Godspeaker. Kufu might be a loathsome creature, but he is a Holy Man. And he has enjoyed Mother’s favor for many years.”</p><p> </p><p>“Father always despised him.” Castiel said. “I wonder what he would have to say about all this.”</p><p> </p><p>“Dead men don’t say anything.” Gabriel said flatly.</p><p> </p><p>Castiel bit back his response. Gabriel and their Father had never been close. And it still cut deep that Gabriel did not miss him the way Castiel did. Not wanting to delve into the matter too deeply, he busied himself with pulling off his red gown and dropping it on a table in his dressing rooms. He crossed the room and gathered up his favorite shawl, throwing it over his shoulders with a flourish; before digging out his hair hand by hand; before flinging himself into the closest chair with a huff. Oh to be a fly on the wall in that old bitch’s chamber.</p><p> </p><p>He was comforted by the idea that they had had no time to plot further – Kufu and the Reverend Mother – since that morning. Palace Godspeakers had many duties throughout the day that would keep Kufu far from the North Wing. Even more now that they were playing host to the Southern Delegation. And his instincts told him the withered old hag would not risk moving around the Palace in the daytime. He clenched his teeth. Everything in his body screamed that there was a larger game afoot here. Castiel wanted to find out what it was. Needed to, if he was ever going to rest easy.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh dahling is it really so awful?” Gabriel asked whining. Castiel shook his hair out of his face feeling sheepish. He didn’t know how long had passed in silence. Long enough for Gabriel to have noticed.</p><p> </p><p>“Forgive me brother. I was miles away.” He admitted.</p><p> </p><p>“Viewed in a certain light all of this could be considered terribly exciting. Clandestine meetings. A young prince locked in a battle of wills with shadowy political figures. Strapping guards. Flaming red gowns. And all this mere weeks before your name day.” Gabriel said, his eyes alight as he spoke.</p><p> </p><p>“Gabriel this isn’t one of your breathless ballads.” Castiel said dismissively. Gabriel had something of a talent for composing the most base and shocking poetry and verse  imaginable. If Castiel didn’t stop this entire line of thinking, he would find himself the subject of one of his brother’s songs, or worse……his plays.</p><p> </p><p>“Says the one reading someone else’s diaries and spewing filth that would make a Pleasurehouse Barkeep blush.” Gabriel said snapping his fan shut. “Funny you should ask about my writing.”</p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t.” Castiel said.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve just finished a <em>marvelous</em> epic.” His brother said fanning his hands dramatically.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh Gabriel don’t…..” Castiel whined.</p><p> </p><p>“The latest adventure of <em>Isaorah!</em>” Gabriel said throwing his right arm to the light and turning his head sharply to the side. “The Slave Boy.” He finished, his voice falling into a whisper.</p><p> </p><p>In his seat, Castiel silently lamented how all the men in his life seemed to have a talent for speaking over him as if he wasn’t even there. But if he fostered any secret hope of returning to the topic of the Truthsayer and Godspeaker Kufu; he knew there was no way around it…</p><p> </p><p>“Go on then tell me.” He sighed. “I believe when last we saw Isaorah he was in the Hareem of the Evil Warlord?”</p><p> </p><p>Gabriel had been writing the tales and woes of Isaorah the Slave Boy for nearly as long as Castiel could remember.</p><p> </p><p>“Who raped him often. And whose first husband had grown jealous of his beauty and forced him to wear a mask.” Gabriel said excitedly.</p><p> </p><p>“Ah yes.” Castiel said. “Wasn’t there a lusty Knight as well?”</p><p> </p><p>“Hmm yesssssss. Dear Sesharim with the golden hair. When the warlord had learned of their secret passion she ripped the lovegift from Isaorah’s neck. Before banishing Sesharim to the lands at the end of the world, to spend his days toiling in the mines and meet his grim end there.”</p><p> </p><p>Castiel chuckled. Gabriel’s flights of fancy often included nonsense like men being able to serve as Knights and own their own property. Isaorah’s adventures were also frequently peppered with such delicacies as love between two men.</p><p> </p><p>“Poor Isaorah.” He put in helpfully. If Gabriel suspected he wasn’t listening it would be an entire afternoon of this.</p><p> </p><p>“Indeed. Yet he does not despair. His salvation has arrived in the form of a Delegation from a distant land; where all the men wear masks. So the husband’s jealousy becomes his ally. He hatches a plan to seduce his guards and while they sleep, to <em>escape</em> through the open door of his cell! Hidden among the visitors.” He continued.</p><p> </p><p>Castiel rolled his eyes chuckling. “Honestly brother. It astonishes me how you come up with these stories.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sometimes I even astonish myself.” Gabriel said with a small smile.</p><p> </p><p>“Equally astonishing is how all of Isaorah’s problems seem to be solved by him bedding half the characters in your plays.” Castiel said popping a grape into his mouth.</p><p> </p><p>“Never underestimate the power of a beautiful face little brother.” Gabriel said gravely; a cloud falling over his senses. It had always been Gabriel’s greatest regret – and the Queen’s favorite whip to beat him with – that he had not grown up to be a beauty.</p><p> </p><p>Castiel knew better than to say anything.</p><p> </p><p>“Speaking of, we must begin discussing what you’ll wear for when the Hunting Party returns. I’m wearing <em>peach</em>.” he said excitedly; all seriousness from a moment before completely forgotten as Gabriel all but leapt out of his seat and made for Castiel’s Dressing Rooms. “Pastels are death on you, but I was thinking…..”</p><p> </p><p>“Actually brother. I think I am still a bit fatigued by the morning’s excitements. I think I should lie down.” He lied.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh dearest! Why didn’t you say? I’ll send the servants to undress you.” Gabriel said whirling in the direction of the door. “To bed with you. And if you don’t feel better by dinner I’ll have Tran bring you a tray.”</p><p> </p><p>“I think that might be best.” Castiel said with a smirk.</p><p> </p><p>*     *     *</p><p> </p><p>Castiel sat reading Anne Bonny’s diary when he heard the door of his chamber open. He listened while the slaves prepared his chambers for the coming night, whispering to each other while they drew all the curtains and stoked the fire. Any minute now. After dinner, he’d instructed Tran to bring him a few delicacies from the kitchen should he get hungry in the night, along with a bottle of wine to help him sleep.</p><p> </p><p>When they were gone, he whipped back the curtains and trotted – still dressed in his trousers and boots – to wait for Tran; who arrived moments later.</p><p> </p><p>“What are you doing out of bed? I thought you were feeling ill?” Tran said holding the tray.</p><p> </p><p>“Change clothes with me.” Castiel said tugging at his night shirt.</p><p> </p><p>“What?” Tran asked. Castiel gave him a look.</p><p> </p><p>“Change clothes with me.” He repeated.</p><p> </p><p>“Why?” Tran asked obediently stripping off his jilee.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re sleeping in here tonight.” Castiel explained.</p><p> </p><p>“And you’re changing into my clothes because……this is some role reversal fantasy?” Tran asked cocking an eyebrow.</p><p> </p><p>Castiel stuck his tongue out at him. “I need to know what else Kufu and that Spider are about. And I’ll never manage it as myself.”</p><p> </p><p>“Light blind me. Have you lost your senses? You can’t possibly mean to go haring around the Palace dressed as a Servant! What if you get caught? What if I get caught?” Tran said sounding flustered as he pulled off his shoes and began unlacing his trousers.</p><p> </p><p>“I won’t get caught. And if anyone does come in here, just…..tell them we’re lovers and I’m using the privy.” Castiel said with a shrug, stripping off his own trousers.</p><p> </p><p>“Lovers?” Tran asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes Tran. It’s the commonly accepted term for people who are fucking.” Castiel said losing his patience. “Your necklace.”</p><p> </p><p>Tran gave him a horrified look, his hand automatically finding the disc at his throat. “Castiel…it is a night and a day on the stone wheel for Servants caught without their necklace…..”</p><p> </p><p>“Which is why I have need of one. The illusion will hardly be complete without it.” Castiel said.</p><p> </p><p>“What am I even supposed to do here all night? Castiel this is madness. You’re going to get yourself caught. Or worse….” Tran said with genuine concern.</p><p> </p><p>“I have a great many books all around this room. And…why do you think I ordered you that tray? Besides my bed is nicer than yours I’d wager.” Castiel said with a smile.</p><p> </p><p>“There’s no wager. Your <em>everything</em> is nicer than mine.” Tran said eyeing the Tray. “What about your hair? It’s a dead giveaway.” he asked capitulating, reaching behind his head to undo the chain holding his necklace secure. Castiel gave him a brilliant smile, grabbing his face in both hands and placing a kiss on the corner of his mouth.</p><p> </p><p>“I have a riding cloak with a hood.” Castiel said with a smile. Tran sighed.</p><p> </p><p>“That’ll be easy to explain to the Guards. I just decided to go for a late stroll in your riding cloak did I?” Tran asked. “You’re doing that wrong.” He added looking at the way Castiel tied the sash around his narrow hips; reaching to redo it himself. As Tran methodically wrapped and tied the fabric around his waist Castiel couldn’t help but notice they were in the exact position as the other morning in the bath when Tran had…..</p><p> </p><p>He hadn’t brought it up. But he’d been extra aware of Tran’s hands on him ever since. The older boy seemed to think there was nothing strange about exploring Castiel’s changing body, but thus far Castiel had been able to resist. He feared what would happen if that resistance ever ran out.</p><p> </p><p>“There. Now sit down. I’ll wrap your head in a scarf.” Tran said. Castiel obliged. “How will you keep from getting lost?” he asked wrapping Castiel’s braid around and around his neck before wrapping the scarf tightly around his head and shoulders.</p><p> </p><p>“Have I not spent my life inside these walls? This Palace is my entire world. I know its secrets.” Castiel said as Tran pulled the scarf around his face to hide it better. “And I would know theirs as well.”</p><p> </p><p>Tran gave him a strange look then, picking up the meat knife from the tray and handing it to Castiel. “Take this. Keep it hidden. Servants aren’t allowed blades, but at least…..”</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you.” Castiel said giving him a reassuring smile.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve never prayed for the Light <em>not</em> to see someone before.” Tran said with an uneasy smirk.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Castiel promised, gathering up his cloak and draping it over his arms like a bundle. “Open the door.”</p><p> </p><p>“See that cloak properly brushed and sponged Tran. I may need it in the morning.” He said loudly as soon as he was sure the Guards at his door could hear.</p><p> </p><p>“Highness.” Tran said from next to him. Castiel gave him one final smile before bowing his head and walking briskly through the doors.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. In Et-Haravelle</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Dean is fast approaching Et-Banotaj with the Caravan of Maeghara and Derubeis, and the world is becoming a less mysterious place.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Two chapters in one day!</p><p>I'm cutting this one in half because it was getting a little long. These next few chapters will be the last few "world building" chapters so please bear with me my lovelies. </p><p>First mention of Bobby! And there is what might be an easter egg that I'll revisit later on in the fic, might just be a flook. I haven't decided.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>That night, after dinner Dee-Ann curled up with his eyes closed as he listened to Maeghara and Derubeis talk Trader business in soft, urgent voices.</p><p> </p><p>“It is unwise not to heed a Godspeakers’ warning.” Said Maeghara. “From Newsun we will travel straight through Et-Jokriel to Thaklikar in Et-Mamiklia. And from there, over the border into Et-Haravelle. Haravelle Warlord’s treaties with Et-Novakar will keep us safe. Till then we are prey for raiding warbands.”</p><p> </p><p>“That is true.” Derubeis sighed. “But surely we can do a little trading along the way Mega? Remember we were blessed by Bobarak himself. The God sees us in its eye.”</p><p> </p><p>Maeghara hissed air between her teeth. “Being blessed does not make us untouchable. Demons can take us. And so can fighting warlords with no love for Et-Novakar, or Et-Banotaj.”</p><p> </p><p>“Demons?” Dee-Ann clutched his snake-eye amulet. The Village Godspeaker shouted loud against demons. Demons sickened goats. They spoiled the snake dance so the young women died fang struck. They dried up the well water or made it bitter. Demons dressed in War and Plague and Pestilence. Men who seeded he-brats only were demon-ridden. They had opened their legs to demons so their man-seed was poisoned. That was why such men were stoned. Only stoning could drive out a demon. And afterwards sacrifice, because demons had power where the people did not love the God enough.</p><p> </p><p>“I love the God.” He promised, as his snake eye amulet bruised his fingers. “Do not let the demons prick me.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know! I know! We must travel swiftly.” Moaned Derubeis and tugged her godbraids. “But so much lost <em>money</em> Maeghara…..”</p><p> </p><p>Maeghara growled. “What is money to a dead woman in the grass?” she asked. “We are no match for a Warlord’s raiding party.”</p><p> </p><p>“No. But perhaps we will not see one?” Derubeis suggested.</p><p> </p><p>“That is not a risk I am prepared to take.” Maeghara said gravely. “You have eyes Rubi. You see Et-Jokriel is turning brown. It is not alone. You saw how changed Et-Bajadek and Et-Takona had become since last we caravanned through them. Those Warlords will soon be at each other’s throats, spilling <em>blood.</em>”</p><p> </p><p>“Each <em>other’s</em> throats Mega!” Derubeis wheeled. “Not <strong>ours</strong>. We are Traders! No part of their squabbles?”</p><p> </p><p>“When the Bloodlust is on them they will not care!” Maeghara’s voice was cold and hard. “And we are from Et-Banotaj, province of Et-Novakar. Novakari Queen’s lands are still lush and green. That alone is cause for hate.”</p><p> </p><p>Derubeis sighed again. “True.”</p><p> </p><p>“Et-Novakar is like a fat lamb passed before a pack of starving dogs. When the other Warlords have stolen all they can from each other, there is where they will turn their envious eyes. They might even think to defy the God and band together in a single attack! We must be home before that happens.” Maeghara said.</p><p> </p><p>“You do not believe me Rubi?” she added as Derubeis fidgeted. “Then I will cast the Godbones. And the God can tell you.”</p><p> </p><p>Through slitted eyes Dee-Ann watched as Maeghara studied her Godbones. The scarlet scorpion on her cheek was restless as she rolled the painted pieces of snake spine, read them and rolled them again. He had never seen Godbones painted like that. Blood red and venom green and blue like the sky at highsun. The woman in the Village had Godbones. Small, chipped and bare of paint. She had made them herself after a snake dance, and was never pleased with what they told her. The racing lizards she bet on always lost.</p><p> </p><p>But neither was Maeghara pleased with her fine Godbones. Her scorpion leapt and writhed. In the flickering firelight it looked like it was stinging her. Her forehead sweated and her breathing rasped.</p><p> </p><p>“Well? What do they say?” Derubeis asked.</p><p> </p><p>“They say what I have said already…” Maeghara answered. “We must caravan hard to Et-Haravelle city. Sell the merchandise there and seek the swiftest way home to Et-Banotaj.”</p><p> </p><p>“Aaaaaiiiiiieeeeeee!!!!!!” said Derubeis, pressing her palms to her eyes. Then she flicked a sideways hopeful glance. “Sell <strong><em>all</em></strong> the merchandise Mega?”</p><p> </p><p>Dee-Ann stopped pretending to sleep. He threw himself to the edge of Maeghara’s blanket, pressing his head to the ground. “Maeghara <em>not sell Dee-Ann?!</em>” he begged even as his teeth chattered with fear. “Dee-Ann belong to Maeghara!”</p><p> </p><p>“There Mega! You see what you’ve done? It’s become attached!” declared Derubeis, outraged. “You’ve made a pet of it and now it’s got attached!” Derubeis took him by the shoulders and shook him till his eyes rolled. “You be quiet!!! Shall I beat you? Shall I give you to the God? Be quiet with your howling you wretched monkey!”</p><p> </p><p>“Be still Dee-Ann! You also Rubi!” Maeghara roared. The scorpion in her cheek was sleeping now. Her fingers plucked up the Godbones one by one and slipped them into their snakeskin pouch. When it was full she closed her eyes and pressed it to her lips. Derubeis released him, and he sat on the cold ground as Maeghara gave thanks to the God for its teachings in the bones. He had no fear of a beating. Derubeis told Maeghara all the time she should beat him. And she never listened. He knew she never would. Maeghara would never hurt him.</p><p> </p><p>“You belong to Maeghara Dee-Ann.” She said when she was finished, slipping the Godbone pouch into her robe as she spoke. Her face was grave, but her eyes were warm. “I will not sell you in Et-Haravelle city.”</p><p> </p><p>Silly, pricking burning water leapt to his eyes. They traveled through a land of water, but he would not shed his. “Dee-Ann belong to Maeghara.” He whispered.</p><p> </p><p>Muttering crossly, Derubeis withdrew to her tent. Maeghara ignored her, and raised a finger so he would pay close attention. “Yes. He does. Now go to sleep Dee-Ann. From tomorrow you will walk as well as ride. You are stronger now and there is some meat on your bones. Walking will be good for you.”</p><p> </p><p>He gifted her with his widest smile. “Yes Maeghara. Thank you Maeghara.” He said.</p><p> </p><p>Tucked beneath his blankets, he held his beautiful blue snake eye amulet, and waited for sleep to claim him. He was not afraid of squabbling Warlords, or of Demons, or of stupid goat Derubeis. Maeghara was here. She would protect him. Maeghara and the God.</p><p> </p><p>“It gave me to Maeghara. It sees me in its Eye. The God sees Dee-Ann. It knows he is precious.”</p><p> </p><p>*    *     *</p><p> </p><p>So the Caravan continued. But he did not walk. He ran. He danced. He darted ahead, then back to Maeghara. Sometimes with flowers to give him. Other times just a smile. He felt like a snake that had shed its skin. All scaled and wrinkled. Tattered and torn. Dee-Ann was the new snake with cotton clothes and shoes on his feet. And charms woven through his godbraided hair. Yes, he was a beautiful snake!</p><p> </p><p>Following many Highsuns travel, they left the lands of Jokriel Warlord and entered lands ruled by the Warlord Mamiklia. There they were told of warbands on the prowl. Of fighting, fierce and blood and not far away!</p><p> </p><p>They came across burning bodies and slaughtered horses twice. The stink made Derubeis vomit.</p><p> </p><p>Once they were nearly caught in a warrior raid!</p><p> </p><p>After that, Maeghara and Derubeis made their white camels jog as well as walk. The pack camels jogged too, and the snake spine of slaves in their chains with Obid and her guards poking and hitting and scolding.</p><p> </p><p>Maeghara wouldn’t let Dee-Ann run anymore. She kept him on the camel with her. Dee-Ann lost count of the Highsuns that followed. One day blurred into the next. And the next. And the next. Even the countryside lost its charm. There were trees. He had seen trees. There were flowers. He had seen flowers. And villages. And crops. And orchards and horses and cattle. And wild hawks flying overhead.</p><p> </p><p>The water flowing deep beneath the land of Novak – Maeghara said – flowed to the surface where the God desired, in streams and rivers. Creatures called <em>fish</em> swam in them. Good for eating! He had seen fish now. Once there was a small blue lake. There were things called….<em>boats</em> floating on it. He could not get excited. It was water. It had lost its power to amaze.</p><p> </p><p>He was tired of traveling. He wanted to rest.</p><p> </p><p>They crossed the border into Et-Haravelle, and four fingers after acknowledging the Godpost, met a band of hard riding warriors. Women wearing shells of hardened leather on their upper bodies. In the middle of their chests was a hunting bird, picked out in stones of newsun fire. And platted into thir charm heavy godbraids waved long red feathers banded thickly with black. Leather thongs dangled round their necks, threaded with rattling, bouncing finger bones. They were <em>fierce</em> women, with cold eyes and cruel mouths. Their horses eyes were angry. They carried arrows on their backs, and a bow looped onto their saddles. Long curved blades belted at their waists flashed silver in the sunlight.</p><p> </p><p>These warriors belonged to Haravelle Warlord – Maeghara explained – and those curved blades were scimitars. A scimitar could cut a camel’s head right off its neck.</p><p> </p><p>“Never cross a woman with a scimitar.” Maeghara said. “Sell her a sharpstone instead.”</p><p> </p><p>Dee-Ann stared as the warband drummed their way to Et-Mamiklia on their dusty sweat streaked horses. They were beautiful those warriors. As beautiful as he was in their way.</p><p> </p><p>“If all we see are Et-Haravelle’s warriors we need not be afraid.” Maeghara told Derubeis. “But if we see warriors of Bajadek or Mamiklia or one of the other Warlords…..”</p><p> </p><p>Derubeis whimpered.</p><p> </p><p>On and on and on they caravanned. And slowly, the road grew crowded with other travelers. Oxcarts and slave trains and plain women on horses. Farms and fenced cattle pastures stretched on either side of them. Eleven Highsuns after crossing the border, they reached Et-Haravelle city. It rose from the plain like a rock on a green stand.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s so <em>big</em>!” said Dee-Ann.</p><p> </p><p>“Not as big as Et-Banotaj city, and not nearly even half so big as Et-Novakar city.” Said Derubeis, and shifted on her camel. “Or as fine. <em>Mega </em>I hope this means we are out of trouble? I hope we see no more galloping warriors! Are you certain you read the Godbones right? We will be safe in Et-Haravelle city?”</p><p> </p><p>Dee-Ann knew Maeghara well now. He knew she wanted to shout at Derubeis, or smack her till her Godbraids clattered her charms. But she knew Derubeis too. Shouting at the short woman only made her sulk. And when she sulked her cooking was bad. So did Maeghara know Derubeis.</p><p> </p><p>“I have told you ten times over Rubi. They say we will be safe here.” She said patiently.</p><p> </p><p>Derubeis fumbled in her pocket and pulled out a cloth. “The Godbones will never speak to <em>me</em>.” She fretted, dabbing sweat from her forehead. “I wish I had the ears to hear them….Mega! We should spend coins to make sacrifice in Et-Haravelle’s Godhouse. If the Warlords squabble it is because demons prick them! We must make an offering against their wicked wiles!”</p><p> </p><p>“Sacrifice is a good idea Rubi. Deaf you may be to the Godbones, but never deaf to the God.” Maeghara said. Derubeis’ miserable face brightened. She always smiled when Maeghara told her something good about herself.</p><p> </p><p>So many others now traveled the roads with them, it was three fingers past Highsun before they reached the tail end of wagons and horses waiting to be allowed through the enormous city gates. Et-Haravelle rose up and up above their heads, ringed by a wall made of tall cut down trees as well as stones the height of three Maegharas, packed tightly with no space between. Each tree was carved and painted with the God’s Eye, and snake fangs and centipedes and scorpions. And the same bird face that shrieked from the shells of Et-Haravelle warriors. Real skulls were there too, glaring blind at the spreading plain. Horse, bird, goat, man….painted with God colors, dangled with amulets, jangled with charms beneath Godbells that sang silver tongued on the breeze.</p><p> </p><p>With his head tilted back so his godbraids tickled the camel’s shoulder, Dee-Ann looked passed the city’s climbing buildings to the Godhouse at its very top. The Godhouse’s Godpost was so tall, that even from so far below he could see its stinging scorpion, tail raised to strike the wicked sinner. He felt his voice shrivel in his throat.</p><p> </p><p>“This place…..this city…..” he said.</p><p> </p><p>“You are right to be awed.” Said Maeghara. He smiled. She always knew what he was thinking. “Et-Haravelle is a mighty city. Only few cities in the entire land is greater, because once it was Novak’s Ruling City; in the time before the Novaki, when this land was known as Mijak.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ruling ci-i-?” Dee-Ann asked hoarsely then stopped, cleaning his throat harshly. He blushed with embarrassment. His voice had taken to disobeying him. Sometimes speaking like himself, other times like a small bird; and yet other times ringing from somewhere deep in his belly like a beast. Rubi had laughed at him until Maeghara had made her stop. Maeghara had explained that his body would be ripped by the winds of change for many fat godmoons yet to come. And that this mutiny of his voice was but the first of many signs that showed he was becoming a man.</p><p> </p><p>“Ruling city Maeghara?” he asked a moment later, his voice obeying him this time.</p><p> </p><p>She nodded, patiently ignoring his embarrassment and simply moving on. “Many, many, many seasons ago, when Novak was ruled by a single Warlord who ruled a savage, Godless people. They were deaf the God. They fucked with demons and practiced strange magics that have mercifully been burned from all knowledge. It was only the Novaki who could hear the God’s voice. And when the God decreed <em>one</em> must be seven, the old Warlord was slaughtered and her name was struck from history. This city of Et-Haravelle was her home then. Of course itt was not called Et-Haravelle then, but still, it would have been accursed to build a new land on such tainted earth. And thus it was the Et-Novakar – the shining jewel of the new World – was built in a place so far from the sins of mortals and so close to the God, that its voice rings in every street.”</p><p> </p><p>Warlords. He had been thinking about them.</p><p> </p><p>“Maeghara. What is a Warlord?” he asked.</p><p> </p><p>“A woman of great power.” She explained. “Chosen by the God to rule over lands, and villages and all the people who live there.”</p><p> </p><p>He frowned. “No Warlord rules Dee-Ann’s village Maeghara? Only Godspeaker.”</p><p> </p><p>“The Savage East is different. Long ago it had warlords to rule it. It was part of two provinces known as Et- Lorents and Et-Kansais. But the land is harsh there. And with every season, grain by grain the sands of the Anvil crept closer. Those long ago Warlords abandoned the East for the cursed, <strong>dead</strong> lands beyond the Anvil. Villages like yours are in the God’s Eye. The God is their Warlord.”</p><p> </p><p>“Tcha!” said Derubeis, pulling a face. “First Geography, now History? What next? To what end Mega? There is no point!”</p><p> </p><p>Maeghara patted his shoulder. “Rubi is right. The past does not matter. Or the Savage East. Rest your tongue Dee-Ann. We move again.”</p><p> </p><p>So they did. But slowly. He could see the city gates. They had long iron teeth to bite off the heads of the unwary, and tall women with bladed spears to guard them. Snakes and scorpions were carved in the wood, and the sign for Godsmite. Any demon who tried to pass these gates would <em>die</em>!</p><p> </p><p>At last they reached the Gatekeeper. A monstrous, tall woman; like a tree made flesh. Her body was clothed in red and black striped horse hide. On her head she wore a horse skull with horns, around her neck a scarlet scorpion. Her belt was green snakeskin threaded with snake skulls. Each winking eye a crimson gem. She wore no godbraids. Her head was bald. Her skin was hidden beneath writhing tattoos. Dee-Ann was pleased to see not one was as fine as Maeghara’s scarlet scorpion.</p><p> </p><p>“Business?” the Gatekeeper barked like a dog. She had so many protections set in her teeth, her lips wouldn’t close properly over them. Maeghara put her hand in her pocket, then held out a piece of carved green stone, round like a thin branch and long as her palm was wide.</p><p> </p><p>“Trader business Gatekeeper. Maeghara and Derubeis of Et-Banotaj, sister city of Et-Haravelle. Their you have our seal stamped by the Novakari Queen herself.” She said. Her hand dipped again into her pocket to pull out another stone cylinder. Though this one was blue. “And here you have proof of our road rights. Fully paid. We come to trade our merchandise and give the God sacred blood in the Godhouse.”</p><p> </p><p>The Gatekeeper examined both carved stones and nodded to one of the tall city guards. The guard walked with his painted spear all the way to the end of the merchandise and back again. When she returned she nodded to the Gatekeeper and went back to her place.</p><p> </p><p>“And what is <em>this</em>?” said the Gatekeeper, jerking her chin at Dee-Ann. He shrank from the Gatekeeper’s gaze. Her eyes were hot. They had no whites. They glowed yellow in the shade beneath the daggered city gate. Maeghara’s finger touched the small of his back.</p><p> </p><p>“A bauble.” She said, her voice soft and calm. He didn’t know what a bauble was, but he sensed she was trying to make the hot eyed Gatekeeper cool. That was good. He wanted her cool. Something about her reminded him of the Woman. She hated he-brats. He could tell. Her hot eyes frightened him. He hated being frightened. It made him angry. He stared at the white camel neck so she wouldn’t see his anger. The Gatekeeper growled in her throat. She sounded like a dog again.</p><p> </p><p>“For sale?” she asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Alas this one is sold already.” Said Derubeis, and her voice was pouty. “To a very special client. We would not dare to sell it twice Gatekeeper Et-Haravelle. Not and keep our name as honest Traders.”</p><p> </p><p>Dee-Ann held his breath, and risked to look through his lowered lashes. The Gatekeeper grunted, her hot yellow eyes were disappointed. She handed back the two carved stones and jerked her thumb. “Pass.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you Gatekeeper Et-Haravelle.” Said Derubeis. “The God sees you in its Eye.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well done Rubi.” Maeghara murmured as they entered Et-Haravelle. “Your tongue is as persuasive as ever.”</p><p> </p><p>“And my brain is upside down.” Said Derubeis sour as goat milk. “What a chance to get rid of the brat Mega! Aaaaaiiiiieeeeeee! The God see me in its Eye. The foolish things I do for you.”</p><p> </p><p>Dee-Ann said nothing, just pressed his blue snake eye against his lips and breathed a sigh of happiness.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Bennihime</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Dee-Ann begins to understand that he is very special indeed, and possibly makes a new friend before the caravan finally begins the final leg of their journey.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>WARNING!!!!!! This chapter contains descriptions of graphic violence having been done to a Slave Boy, as well as a brief description of an animal being humanely killed. I'm sorry if anyone is disturbed by this. I swear I am not a violent person and I do not condone any abuse of animals in any way!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Et-Haravelle city’s Godpost stood just inside the open gates. Grim and glorious as the God itself. Not wood, but solid shiny black stone. All its carved scorpions were purple and crimson. Maeghara gave it huge godbowl more than gold. She gave it amulets and Godbells and tiny snake skulls bound with charms. Derubeis gave it a fistful of gemstones and they both bowed their heads to the ground before it. The God appeased, they climbed back on their camels, and led the slave train across the narrow street lined with buildings made of stone and brick and wood. Dee-Ann stared at the buildings and the women and the men and the rats and the skinny dogs running free along the houses. The hot air of Et-Haravelle city was thick with woman stink and animal stink, smoke fires and cooking meat. No trees. No grass. The street was stony. The buildings winding above them blot out the light. It was dim as lowsun at the bottom.</p><p> </p><p>Dee-Ann did not like it.</p><p> </p><p>The winding street wrapped around Et-Haravelle. At last they reached an open place divided into pens. Most were filled with goats. The air was ripe with pish and shit. There were huge black dogs chained at the front of each pen, as mean as the Woman had ever owned. But these dogs didn’t bark. They just climbed growling to their feet. The hair on their massive backs stood stiff like the collar of the deadly striped lizards that sometimes pulled in from the Anvil. A woman sat on a stool nearby. She stood as they approached and shouted at the growling dogs. The dogs dropped to their haunches, but didn’t hide their teeth.</p><p> </p><p>“Pennkeeper.” Maeghara said, making her camel kneel five paces before the woman and getting off. “How much to pen these slaves and camels?”</p><p> </p><p>The Pennkeeper was old. She wore amulets from her saggy ears, and around her neck a leather purse hung strung with laces and charms. Her clothes were goat hide, rubbed bare and shiny in large patches. One arm stuck out from her body at a strange angle, as if the bone had broken and never knew its proper place after.</p><p> </p><p>“Two silver pieces from now until next Highsun.” She said.</p><p> </p><p>The look on Derubeis face told Dee-Ann that was a lot of money. To him it sounded like a lot. But Maeghara looked undismayed, counting out the coins and dropping them into the woman’s hand.</p><p> </p><p>“Obid!” she called, and Obid came running, tired and sweating.</p><p> </p><p>“Mistress?” she asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Pen the merchandise in that large pen, camels in a separate pen. Remove the merchandise chains. See it watered and fed.” Maeghara said simply, before crooking a finger at Dee-Ann. “There is Dee-Ann. You see him now. I see him in that pen, he does not leave it. This is my nod.”</p><p> </p><p>“Mistress.” Obid said, her eyes still squirming with maggot questions as she looked at Dee-Ann drawing near.</p><p> </p><p>“Maeghara?” Dee-Ann asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Derubeis and I go now to do Trader business. You will heed Obid while I am gone. This is my word.” She said. Dee-Ann schooled his face. He did not want to go into the pen, and he did not want to be given orders by a dirty woman slave like Obid. He wanted to go with Maeghara and see this Great city. He wanted to see the Godhouse that had such a Godpost it could be seen from so far away. He wanted to see the Palace which towered over all of Et-Haravelle. It was by far the largest and finest building Dee-Ann had ever seen. But Maeghara had given her word, and she must always be obeyed.</p><p> </p><p>So he went – taking slow steps and scuffing his shoes on the stones of the open area as Maeghara and Derubeis walked from sight – stinging and frowning; but he went. Obid rapped her stick on the ground.</p><p> </p><p>The Penkeeper’s eyes followed him as he walked. Dee-Ann could feel her hungry gaze.</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t stare at me!” he said with bared teeth making his voice hiss like a snake. “Dee-Ann belong to Maeghara.”</p><p> </p><p>The Pennkeeper’s face went still, and her eyes rolled like a goat as the knife approached. She shook her fist at him, then went to help Obid and the guards prod the merchandise into a large empty pen.</p><p> </p><p>Dee-Ann smiled and folded his arms. The pen’s black guard dogs stood quietly. When all the slaves had shuffled in and the guards had taken off their chains and dropped them outside the pen with a clanking thud, Obid crooked her finger at him.</p><p> </p><p>“I see you now. I see you in this pen.” She said.</p><p> </p><p>Dee-Ann walked past Obid and the Pennkeeper and the watching dogs, to join the naked slaves. They stared at him in wondering silence, standing as though they were still in their chains. Obid pulled the pen’s gate shut and the Pennkeeper fastened its lock. The floor was dirt, not stone; and Dee-Ann covered his nose against the smell of too many unwashed bodies.</p><p> </p><p>“Your mistress is a mad one to keep <em>that</em>!” The Penkeeper said to Obid. “Can she not see the <em>evil</em> in its eye?”</p><p> </p><p>“I do not speak of my Mistress.” Obid said. She sounded surly. Dee-Ann thought she wanted to agree with the old Pennkeeper, but did not dare.</p><p> </p><p>“My eye not evil! I am Dee-Ann. My eye is precious and beautiful. So the mirror say, and the man Bisla, and Maeghara when she look at me! <em>You</em> no look!” Dee-Ann said loud enough for them both to hear. The black dog growled.</p><p> </p><p>“I see you no talking.” Obid said. “I say the word. Maeghara’s nod.”</p><p> </p><p>If he made trouble, she would tell Maeghara. And Maeghara would be angry. So no making trouble. Instead he pulled a face at Obid because that was not talking. Obid slitted her eyes at him, then went to the other guards to unpack supplies from the pack camels so he and the merchandise could eat and drink. The Pennkeeper returned to her stool, and made sure she didn’t look anywhere near him.</p><p> </p><p>His legs ached. He’d had too many Highsuns of sitting on the camel. He itched to run. But the pen was crowded, no room to run. Instead he walked around its inside edge and smiled to see the slaves cringe, as though they were goats and he was a sandcat. He laughed as they remembered their chains were gone, and baring his teeth; they fell over one another to get away. It was a good feeling, seeing their fear. Dee-Ann was not afraid.</p><p> </p><p>Obid and the guards fed and watered themselves first. After that they fed and watered the camels. Only then did they carry bowls and cups, bags of food and jars of water into the pen with the merchandise.</p><p> </p><p>“Sit!” said Obid, and all the slaves bumped their skinny haunches to the ground and held out their hands for a bowl and a cup. The bowls were filled with bread, cheese and cold roasted corn. Each cup received a ladle’s worth of water. The slaves’ eyes were greedy. Their tongues licked their lips. But they could not eat or drink until Obid gave her nod.</p><p> </p><p>Dee-Ann did not sit. He could see Obid wanted to make him, but did not dare. She knew if she could make trouble for Dee-Ann, then he could make trouble for her too. She shoved a bowl and cup at him, her face angry.</p><p> </p><p>“Eat!” she said and the merchandise obeyed her.</p><p> </p><p>He stared at the bowl, letting his face show his distaste. He had not eaten slave food once since Maeghara had rescued him from the Woman and the Village. He did not want to eat it now. It reminded him of that life he no longer lived. Of the nameless He-Brat he’d left behind in the Village. But his belly was empty, and his mouth was parched.</p><p> </p><p>He drank the water, then put dry bread into his mouth and chewed and swallowed.</p><p> </p><p>On the other side of the pen, Dee-Ann heard a scuffle. Still chewing, he went to see. One of the slaves had dropped its bowl. Its bread and cheese and corn were in the dirt. Other slaves were stealing them. They would not steal from a bowl. Such slaves would be beaten. But food in the dirt, belonged to whoever took it. The slave who had dropped its bowl screamed, but the others did not retreat. Too soon there was nothing left to be stolen, and the hungry slave sat in a pitiful heap; its eye water mixing with the dirt of the pen.</p><p> </p><p>Surprised, Dee-Ann realized he knew this one. This was the fat he-brat from the Lizard roofed village Todorok, where the man Bisla had called him beautiful. But it wasn’t fat anymore. It had used up its fat running on the road. Beneath the fat, this slave was beautiful.</p><p> </p><p>“You could’ve helped me!” he cried. Dee-Ann looked at him strangely.</p><p> </p><p>“Why?” Dee-Ann asked.</p><p> </p><p>This slave was maybe five seasons older than he was. He looked at Dee-Ann, his beautiful blue eyes dull with hunger and hurt.</p><p> </p><p>“Because slaves should help each other!” he said. Dee-Ann bristled.</p><p> </p><p>“Tcha! Slave? Dee-Ann is not slave. I have name. I wear clothes. I ride with Maeghara on her camel.” He said.</p><p> </p><p>“I have a name too.” The slave said in a low voice. “My name is Bennihime. <em>Someone</em> might as well know.”</p><p> </p><p>Dee-Ann nodded at the chafed places on his wrists and ankles. “You wear chains not clothes. You run behind camel. Your name far behind you.”</p><p> </p><p>The slave’s scabby fist struck his chest. “Not in here! In here I am still Bennihime! I was sold because my Mother died, and the God gave my Father to another Woman. She had her own sons to get rid of, she did not want another. She wanted gold. She got gold. I got chains.” He said bitterly.</p><p> </p><p>“Why do you have clothes? Why do you ride with Maeghara?” he asked sounding confused.</p><p> </p><p>Dee-Ann shrugged. “I’m beautiful.”</p><p> </p><p>“You are not <strong>so</strong> beautiful.” The slave muttered.</p><p> </p><p>“The God not see you!” Dee-Ann scorched with rage. “Stupid slave! The God not see you!”</p><p> </p><p>“The God already not see me…” the slave said. He sounded sad again. “The God did not see me when it blew out my Mother’s Godspark. The God did not see me when they sliced off my godbraids and sold me to this hell.” He said. He squeezed water from his eyes with a dirty finger. Then he smiled at Dee-Ann.</p><p> </p><p>“I lied. You are <em>beautiful</em>. What are you called?”</p><p> </p><p>There was one piece of bread and one piece of cheese in the bottom if his bowl. All the corn was eaten. He picked up the bread and cheese, and threw it at the slave’s feet. The slave snatched it up and crammed it into his mouth.</p><p> </p><p>“I am called Dee-Ann.”</p><p> </p><p>“The God see you Dee-Ann.” Bennihime said smiling through lips smeared with dirt. Dee-Ann turned his back and walked away. He did not know why his fingers had picked out the bread and cheese, and thrown them at that slave. Give his food to a slave? Talk to a slave? Had a scorpion stung him to do such a thing? He threw his empty bowl in the dirt and sat down in the corner, far away from the merchandise; playing with one of the amulets at the end of his godbraids while he waited for Maeghara’s return.</p><p> </p><p>*     *     *</p><p> </p><p>She came at last, with Derubeis; a Godspeaker and two other women. Behind them panted a young female slave, harnessed to an empty cart. The slave unstrapped itself from the cart’s leather traces; then went away. The women with Maeghara wore plain dark robes and Trader charms around their necks. They were maybe a little younger than Maeghara. Their eyes were sharp. They didn’t seem like women who were easily fooled, or foolish. The Godspeaker was young, and her robe was the finest Dee-Ann had ever seen. Sewn all over with amulets of gold and bronze, and singing silver godbells. Stitched into the robe’s hem, were lumps of the blue stone his Snake Eye amulet was carved from, and Maeghara had told him was lapis-lazuli. The Scorpion shell strapped to the Godspeaker’s forehead was white. With claws painted crimson and a sting banded purple and gold. He had never seen a scorpion shell so fine. Around her neck, the Godspeaker wore a chunk of green crystal, as large as a fist and threaded on a leather thong. She pulled it over her head and held it in her hands.</p><p> </p><p>When the crystal touched her flesh it flared into life. Maeghara’s slaves cried out, falling over one another in their pen, and the Traders snatched at their amulets and closed their eyes. Maeghara stood quietly, her gaze even.</p><p> </p><p>“The Godstone sees the heart of those known to the God.” The Godspeaker said.</p><p> </p><p>“What slaves the God sees, I gladly gift to its Godspeaker.” Maeghara said bowing her head. “And the Godhouse of Et-Haravelle. Come into the pen with me that the Godstone might seek for hearts known to the God.”</p><p> </p><p>The Godspeaker nodded, then released the crystal to dangle on its leather thong on the end of her finger. There it swung, all its blaze dead like a cold fire. Maeghara opened the gate. The black dog cowered at the nearness of the Godspeaker.</p><p> </p><p>“Dee-Ann.” Maeghara said not looking at him. “Leave this pen and stand with Derubeis.”</p><p> </p><p>“The God looks at <em>all</em> offerings Trader Maeghara.” Said the Godspeaker.</p><p> </p><p>“Forgive me Godspeaker. This one is not mine to offer.” Maeghara said apologetically. The Godspeaker nodded, and Dee-Ann went to Derubeis. For once she touched him, her fingers taking hold of his shoulder. Dee-Ann felt frightened. Maeghara clapped her hands.</p><p> </p><p>“Obid!”</p><p> </p><p>Obid came and poked the slaves with her spear until they stood in a line at the edge of the pen. The Godspeaker walked up to the nearest one, and held the stone so it was within easy reach.</p><p> </p><p>“The God sees you. Take the crystal.” She said. Panting with fear, the slave clutched the crystal. But nothing happened. “The God sees you, but not your heart.” She said taking back the crystal, and gave it to the next slave.</p><p> </p><p>“The God sees you. Take the crystal.” She said again. Whimpering, the woman slave took the crystal.  For the second time the crystal did not wake. “The God sees you, but not your heart.” The Godspeaker said and moved on.</p><p> </p><p>Dee-Ann had counted. There were forty seven slaves in Maeghara’s caravan. One by one, the Godspeaker gave them the crystal, said her words and waited. One by one, the God did not see any hearts. If the Godspeaker was angry or disappointed, her face did not show it.</p><p> </p><p>She gave the crystal to the slave calling himself Bennihime. When that slave’s fingertips brushed the crystal, it came alive in a blaze of white hot light. The slave Bennihime gasped, and stared without words at the Godspeaker.</p><p> </p><p>“The God sees you.” The Godspeaker said. “The God sees your heart.”</p><p> </p><p>She took back the crystal. “Stand apart from the unseen. You belong to the God, until it strikes you dead in its eye.”</p><p> </p><p>Dazed, the slave Bennihime stumbled away from the line of slaves. Dee-Ann looked at Maeghara to see how she felt about the God taking one of her slaves. He couldn’t tell. The scarlet scorpion on her cheek was quiet. Derubeis’ face however, he could read like the open sky. She was pleased to please the Godspeaker, but she was sorry to lose more coin.</p><p> </p><p>The Godstone saw no other hearts after Bennihime’s. The Godspeaker clicked fingers at the chosen slave Bennihime. He followed her out of the pen, and looked at the ground.</p><p> </p><p>“The God sees your gift Trader Maeghara. The God is pleased. Ask one thing of the God, and that one thing shall be granted.” The Godspeaker said. As Derubeis gasped, Maeghara bowed low to the Godspeaker.</p><p> </p><p>“The God is good. The one thing I ask for myself, my fellow Trader and our possessions; is safe passage from Et-Haravelle to Et-Banotaj, in a Godspeaker caravan.” She said.</p><p> </p><p>“Granted.” Said the Godspeaker nodding. “Go to the Godpost wayhouse when you are ready to travel. You must wait there until the next Godspeaker caravan departs.”</p><p> </p><p>Without warning, the Godspeaker tossed the Godstone on its leather thong at Dee-Ann. Without thinking, his hands caught it out of the air. It blazed to life between his hands, the light burning his eyes and the stone turning warm against his skin. He looked between Maeghara and the Godspeaker.</p><p> </p><p>“The God sees this one Trader Maeghara. It sees his heart. You tempt the God’s wrath by concealing him.” The Godspeaker said.</p><p> </p><p>“Apologies Godspeaker. But this one is not mine to gift.” Maeghara said.</p><p> </p><p>“Pray whoever this one belongs to will do their duty to the God.” The Godspeaker said.</p><p> </p><p>Maeghara bowed again. “The God see you in its eye Godspeaker.”</p><p> </p><p>“The God see you also Trader Maeghara.” The Godspeaker replied. She walked away then, with the slave Bennihime a pace behind her. He looked over his shoulder, and his eyes found Dee-Ann. There was something almost sad in his eyes, and his hand lifted away from his body as if he wanted to wave. Dee-Ann drove his eyes away. The next time he looked up, the Godspeaker and the boy were gone. Dee-Ann shrugged. He would never see the boy Bennihime again, so he decided to forget him.</p><p> </p><p>“Obid!” Maeghara ordered next to her. “Fetch your fellow guards and the Camel-girl.”</p><p> </p><p>Obid did as she was told. Maeghara turned to the two Traders waiting silently for the God’s business to be done.</p><p> </p><p>“Trader Edorok, Derubeis will show you our camels.” She said. Derubeis and Trader Edorok went to haggle over the beasts, and Obid returned with the other guards and the Camel-Girl. Maeghara nodded to her, and one other almost as tall and strong as Obid. “Stand away.” She said. “You remain in my possession. You others, stand with the Merchandise.”</p><p> </p><p>Watching the guards Maeghara no longer wanted, Dee-Ann saw their eyes tremble with fear. But they said nothing. They only obeyed her nod. They were slaves.</p><p> </p><p>“Trader Rogiv…” said Maeghara. “Here is our merchandise. Inspect it. I invite you.”</p><p> </p><p>Trader Rogiv looked at the waiting slaves then turned and pointed. “Trader Maeghara, What about <em>that</em> one?”</p><p> </p><p>Dee-Ann held his breath. He stared at Maeghara. Trader Rogiv’s pointing finger was a stab in his heart. “That one belongs to me.” Maeghara said. “He is not for sale.” She continued. In her voice was a warning not to argue. Dee-Ann felt himself melt inside. Maeghara would not sell him in Et-Haravelle. So she had told him, and so it was proved. She was Maeghara. Her word was her word.</p><p> </p><p>Then it was Trader haggling, as the camels and slaves were sold. When it was over, and the Traders were gone to fetch for Maeghara the promised coin; Obid and the other slave began unloading the camels and packing all their goods into the empty cart. Derubeis supervised them for a small time, then returned to Maeghara.</p><p> </p><p>“Aaaaaiiiiieeeeee Mega?!” she said swollen with displeasure. “Must we travel with a Godspeaker caravan? There are so many of them in a Caravan. You know what it will be like. They live and breathe and sweat out the God. To be close like that I lose my appetite. Would you have me skin and bone by the time we reach Et-Banotaj?”</p><p> </p><p>“Better skin and bone in Et-Banotaj than dead on the road.” Maeghara said. “The God saw us Rubi when it sent us that chosen slave. No other price would buy us the protection of a Godspeaker caravan.”</p><p> </p><p>At this Derubeis’ eyes fell on Dee-Ann, and he knew she was thinking of when he had caught the stone, and made the light appear.</p><p> </p><p>“If the other Warlords should send warriors against Et-Haravelle, only Godspeakers will be safe on the road. You know this. We have seen trouble like this before.” Maeghara continued.</p><p> </p><p>“And I’d hoped never to see it again!” cried Derubeis. “Warlords fighting each other is bad for business.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes. But do not despair. We have made a good profit from this trading. And we have much business to tend when we reach home. We have been many godmoons on the road.” Maeghara said.</p><p> </p><p>Derubeis sighed. “Yes I know. Our villa is likely a tumbled ruin. That Ashar cannot care for it properly without my proper supervision.”</p><p> </p><p>“You know he can!” Maeghara said laughing. “He always does. It will be a relief to see it again.”</p><p> </p><p>The Et-Haravelle Traders returned then. When the sale was completed and the money safely added to the coin box, Maeghara nodded to Obid and the other Slave. They harnessed themselves to the heavy laden cart, and followed Maeghara and Derubeis away from the Slave pens. Walking between the Traders, Dee-Ann looked up.</p><p> </p><p>“Maeghara? Why did the God see that slave boy?” he asked, as much for Bennihime as for himself.</p><p> </p><p>“So it might serve in the Godhouse.” She said. He frowned.</p><p> </p><p>“Serve how?”</p><p> </p><p>“That is not our business.” She said.</p><p> </p><p>“That slave…” he said after a moment. “He had a name. He told me.”</p><p> </p><p>Maeghara leaned down and tugged one of his godbraids with a smirk. “Slaves have no names Dee-Ann. Not until their Mistress gives them one with the giving of the scarlet slave braid.”</p><p> </p><p>He smiled inside. He had given himself a name. And he wore no slave braid. He was as special as the slave Bennihime, gone to serve the God.</p><p> </p><p>“When I held the stone Maeghara? Did the God see me? My heart?” he asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Your heart monkey?” Derubeis said from the side. “Ha! My Hooli’s heart will be seen by the God before yours!” she continued laughing. Maeghara smiled too. But he still didn’t understand. If the God had not seen his heart, then why had the light come? And more…why was Derubeis speaking to him in that Trader voice of hers?</p><p> </p><p>“The God sees all hearts.” Maeghara explained seeing his confusion. “Godstones are for Godspeakers who are less than the God itself. Now be quiet Dee-Ann. It is a long walk to the Et-Haravelle Godhouse.”</p><p> </p><p>He was silent because she said he must be silent. But he still didn’t understand. He wanted to know how that Godstone knew to burn or stay dead? To know what would happen to that special slave Bennihime who had gone to serve in Et-Haravelle’s Godhouse. How he would serve? And what the God wanted from him?</p><p> </p><p>That slave Bennihime had called him Dee-Ann. Had called him beautiful. <em>He</em> had given him bread.</p><p> </p><p>Surprised, Dee-Ann realized he was sorry he would never see him again.</p><p> </p><p>*    *    *</p><p> </p><p>They made their slow way along to the road. Dee-Ann didn’t know where they were going, but he was happy to be walking.</p><p> </p><p>They came to a place where tall red wooden Godposts had been set into the ground. A skinny slave was nailed alive to one of them, with his belly cut open; and all his gizzards spilling free. His ankles were broken. His eyes were put out. He wore nothing, save for a blanket of flies. Dee-Ann knew he lived only by the horrible sounds he made. His begging for the God to let him die.</p><p> </p><p>He felt his belly clutch tight. He tasted muck in his mouth.</p><p> </p><p>This was worse than the girl who’d put her body in the Village well. This was the worst thing he had ever seen.</p><p> </p><p>“He tried to run away.” Maeghara said. “The God abhors wicked runaway slaves. This is their fate. The Godspeakers smite them for the God.”</p><p> </p><p>He nodded. He had no words for the dying slave in his tunic of flies.  They kept on walking.</p><p> </p><p>*     *     *</p><p>Et-Haravelle’s Godgate was an anthill place with wagons and carts and oxen and slaves coming and going without seeing, and pens for many complaining animals. The air was heavy with smells. The gates themselves stayed shut, huge black scorpions towering over them – taller than the tallest man – their tails looking ready to strike. They would not open until the Caravan was ready to leave for Et-Banotaj. The wayhouse for travelers intending to journey with the Godspeaker caravan was small and spare, with no one wanting to travel but Maeghara and Derubeis. There was nothing to do there but eat and sleep, and wait.</p><p> </p><p>Each day at highsun, they stood by its Godpost and watched a Godspeaker ask the God if they time had come for the caravan to depart. The question was asked by sacrificing a golden cockerel, burning its entrails in the scorpion bowl and breathing deep of the sacred smoke.</p><p> </p><p>If the God’s answer was no, the Godspeaker fell to the ground twitching and foaming at the mouth and drumming bare heels on the ground. Three times now they had witnessed the asking. Three times the God had answered no. The Godspeaker who came to make sacrifice on the fourth highsun, was naked except for a loincloth and the scorpion shell bound to his brow. His scorpion sting marks were all on show, angry and raised, covering the dark skin of his belly and back. Many of them looked fresh.</p><p> </p><p>Dee-Ann remembered the Village Godspeaker with only five, so old they had turned dull and muddy. The Village Godspeaker was nothing, a dried up husk compared to the Godspeakers of Et-Haravelle. He was angry to think such a shrunken, unbitten old woman had frightened him so much. And surprised that the God would accept her as its Speaker. Although to be fair, the God had not had many women to choose from in the Village.</p><p> </p><p>The Et-Haravelle Godspeaker sprinkled his circle of sacred sand. It was crimson. The color of golden cockerel blood and sparkled strangely on the stony ground. At the circle’s completion, the sand burst into life; leaping black tongues of night cold flame.</p><p> </p><p>Though he’d seen the God wake over and over, Dee-Ann held his snake eye amulet with a thrill of surprise. The Godspeaker picked up the golden cockerel and his sacrifice knife. Like the others before it, the beautiful bird died soundless; slit from crop to tail in a single blow. Its entrails slipped into the waiting scorpion bowl and became hot fire. As the sacred circle’s black flame danced around him, the Godspeaker fell to his knees and plunged his face into the offering’s greasy blue smoke. Breathing deeply, his eyes rolled back in his head.</p><p> </p><p>He did not fall twitching and foaming to the ground. Rather the tattoos on his skin beneath the scorpion stings glowed with the God’s green blue light.</p><p> </p><p>“Aaaaaaiiiiieeeee!!!!! The God has answered!” exclaimed Derubeis.</p><p> </p><p>“The God <em>always</em> answers.” Scolded Maeghara, but she was smiling.</p><p> </p><p>“I know! I know!” Derubeis said impatiently. “But this time it has answered yes!”</p><p> </p><p>The Godspeaker breathed the last of the sacred smoke and stood. In his left hand dangled the gutted golden cockerel, in his right the bloodied knife.</p><p> </p><p>“The God speaks!” he said to the distant sky, his eyes glowing with the God’s light; his tattoos glowing like living coals. “The caravan to Et-Banotaj departs at newsun!”</p><p> </p><p>He threw the sacrifice into the air, as the golden cockerel’s feathers caught fire; burning it into nothingness. The sacred circle’s black flames roared higher than the Godspeaker’s head, then vanished; the last of the sacred sand consumed.</p><p> </p><p>“And a good thing too.” Said Derubeis once the Godspeaker was gone. “if I pray hard I might survive one more night in that awful wayhouse. But only one. And only if the God is good.”</p><p> </p><p>Dee-Ann hid his face so Derubeis would not see his disgust. He had a bed in the wayhouse too. It was the most <em>wonderful</em> thing he’d ever slept on, with softness beneath him and too many blankets. He’d never dreamed there could be such a thing as too many blankets. Let goat Derubeis sleep on a baked earth floor under a table, or chained to a wall where dogs could sniff her. Dogs that longed to devour her bones, and a Woman who beat her if she was so cold and stiff on waking she could hardly walk.</p><p> </p><p>Let Derubeis sleep like <strong>that</strong> and then complain of blankets and a <em>bed</em>!</p><p> </p><p>She was a stupid, <em>stupid</em> woman!</p><p> </p><p>Maeghara patted Derubeis on the shoulder. “Hush yourself Rubi. It is known the God is always good.”</p><p> </p><p>They settled in for the night, and left Et-Haravelle the next morning.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So yeah. Benny was the familiar face I was hinting at earlier. I noticed re-reading this that there's a hint of chemistry between Dean and Benny. This is unintentional for this story. But waaaaaaaaaay back in the deep dark days of a week ago when I first thought of this, the character that is now Benny was going to be Castiel; and this would've been the first time we met him.</p><p>But I decided I wanted to go in a different direction.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Under cover of night</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Castiel learns of a plots afoot, and shadwoy figures positioned far too close for anyone's comfort.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The first few moments for Castiel as he walked the halls of the Palace passed in abject fear. He was so certain he would be discovered any moment than he continually found himself fighting the urge to run. He ducked into an alcove, trying to force his breathing to slow.  His blood had turned to ice the first time he rounded a corner and saw two other slaves walking toward him. They passed him without even so much as a look in his direction. It was not a feeling he was accustomed to. He had almost revealed himself without thinking when the closest slave passed him by and he’d almost blessed him. He shook his head, breathing once through his nose to still his nerves.</p><p> </p><p>He needed to take control of himself. He was being ridiculous.</p><p> </p><p>Daring to continue on to the next hallway, he passed a small copse of guards changing their shifts. One of the women even nodded in his direction; but then immediately returned to speaking to her confederate. He fought the urge to smile. This newfound invisibility was something he could get used to. After a few near misses, the pattern of the guard patrols became clear; and therefore easy to avoid. They patrolled in twos, moving in a pre-determined pattern through whatever area they’d been assigned that meant there was a fresh pair every fifteen minutes.</p><p> </p><p>By the time he reached the quadrangle he even dared to move a little faster; no longer from nerves but rather because he was beginning to enjoy himself. He would never have been able to move so quickly or so nimbly in his usual clothes. He swallowed a sigh. It had been years since he’d been allowed to run free, and never in these public areas. But putting the thought aside, he drove his mind back to the task at hand. He still had quite a bit of ground to cover if he to get all the way to the North Wing. But his instinct told him that wasn’t where the meeting would be taking place. He could probably count on both hands the number of people in the Palace who knew the Reverend Mother was here. But he’d had a chance to take measure of the woman, and he had to assume that was two hands too many.</p><p> </p><p>He had to assume if there was to be a meeting – and aaaaiiiieeeee he felt in his <em>bones</em> that there was – it would be in some secret place. Kufu would have had to be present for evening offering. Castiel had to presume he would keep to his routine, in order to avoid arousing suspicion.</p><p> </p><p>But as the time dragged on – enough for three pairs of guards to have passed him now – fear whispered in his ear. If he’d miscalculated…...A wrong move now would cost him his chance altogether, and all of this will have been for nothing. From somewhere a gong sounded the hour. It was drawing late and the longer he was out here, the more suspicious it would become for a Body Slave to be caught by himself. He waited. He was just beginning to fear that he truly had made a grievous error, when he spotted the slender form of Godspeaker Kufu slithering his way out of the Keep and across the courtyard.</p><p> </p><p>A tiny flame of triumph lit itself in Castiel’s chest. There then gone, replaced instead by glorious purpose.</p><p> </p><p>Tran’s clothes had gotten him this far, but now he needed to disappear altogether.</p><p> </p><p>Still tucked safely behind the Statue he’d been hiding behind, he waited for the next patrol to pass him, before he drew the cloak over his shoulders and pulled the hood low over his face. When he emerged he was like moving night, the dark folds of the cloak hiding his body, and his soft footfalls all but inaudible on the stone pavement. Scampering along the perimeter walls as fast as he could – managing to keep Kufu in his sight – it became a kind of game darting from one pool of shadow to the next. It was no great surprise when Kufu veered away from the North Wing.</p><p> </p><p>Castiel sighed. Right again.</p><p> </p><p>The Godspeaker was not moving quickly, or slowly. Nor did he appear to be looking around for anyone following. He was no doubt attempting to affect his usual pace and demeanor. No Guard would dare question a Godspeaker, but if he was seen acting strangely; it would certainly be noted. But Castiel was convinced the man’s narrow shoulders were set too tightly as he walked. Oh how he hated him. Before this morning Castiel would’ve bit his lip for even thinking such a thing. But it was true. Had been for a long time. With his voice like snake scales and his cane so ready to mete out discipline when Castiel could not remember a fact of history. When his tongue stumbled on a word in a foreign language; or when he misquoted one of the infinite teachings of the God.</p><p> </p><p>Castiel had to fall back once Kufu entered a small building on the South side of the courtyard. Pursuing him without being detected would be much trickier once they were inside. The curving staircases that took him down were the most dangerous. There was nowhere to hide, and he would have no valid excuse should he be sighted there.</p><p> </p><p>He dared not speak it aloud, but he repeated a prayer that the Light should hide him over and over in his mind as he all but raced around the curves of the stairs.</p><p> </p><p>Where was Kufu going? This building led to a few of the administrative areas involved with the everyday guard operations. Castiel noticed small cells where the Guards could take some rest or meals in the middle of their shift, privy chambers, a few provision areas and storerooms for uniforms. Nothing of any note. It was only after a moment that it dawned on him. This was a brilliant place to conduct affairs best left unseen. It was right under the Guards’ noses. Not to mention access to other areas of the Palace. It was no great secret that for every one public area or chamber in the Palace, there were at least four servant or slave passages that would allow them to move about unseen.</p><p> </p><p>His heart nearly leapt out of his chest when he rounded a corner and saw Kufu standing not fifteen paces in front of him. Panicking, Castiel ducked into an open door right across from him, moving so he was behind the wooden door.</p><p> </p><p>It was only when he felt his chest burning that he realized he’d been holding his breath. He sat there for a few moments. His legs were protesting. He wasn’t used to this much exercise, and the added weight and heat of his hair wrapped around his neck – not to mention the scarf Tran had knotted around him – was making him sweat. He could hear voices chattering from the room next door through a vent screwed into the wall near the floor. He nodded. Many of these rooms would grow damp and close without proper ventilation.</p><p> </p><p>After counting to ten, peering around to see the Godspeaker had gone.</p><p> </p><p>He frowned. The spot where the Godspeaker had been standing was at a fork in the hallway. One way led down more stairs. The other led into – according to the sign scribbled on the door – a Candle storeroom. It made sense. The courtyard alone had over two hundred lanterns that needed to be kept lit throughout the night. If Castiel had to wager a guess, he’d estimate there were numerous such perfunctory storerooms hidden way among the unseen parts of the Palace that he would never know about.</p><p> </p><p>He had to map out his next move carefully, trying to get his bearing of just where he was exactly in relation to the courtyard. They were still on South side of it yes, but these were the <em>servant</em> areas! The <strong>last</strong> place he’d know.</p><p> </p><p>He looked down the staircase but couldn’t hear any footfalls. That meant Kufu was in the storeroom. He cursed, looking around fitfully. He didn’t want to be caught out here, but he also needed to find a way to see what was going on in the storeroom. Under normal circumstances he had the protection of his own identity behind him. Sneaking in to the Guards’ areas this time of the night dressed as a Body Servant was a horse of a different color.</p><p> </p><p>He ducked back into the room he’d hidden in before and shut the door, looking around for the vent he’d heard the voices through earlier. Crouching as low to the ground as he could get, he pressed his ear against the vent, closing his eyes so he could listen.</p><p> </p><p>“…….fast as I could.” He heard the Godspeaker say.</p><p> </p><p>“Did anyone see you?” an unknown voice said, so softly Castiel could barely hear it; let alone tell if it was a woman or a man speaking.</p><p> </p><p>“Of course.” Kufu said as if speaking to a particularly idiotic child. “A great many people. I am after all, a Godspeaker?” he continued.</p><p> </p><p>“Lock the door Kufu. We have wasted enough time.” Castiel heard the unmistakable voice of the Reverend Mother say.</p><p> </p><p>*     *     *</p><p> </p><p>Castiel tried to breathe as little as possible. He could hardly believe his luck. But now that he was here, he had to gather as much information as possible. The vent carried most sound, but it was cumbersome and muffled. And more than anything, Castiel wanted to get <em>closer</em>. Unlooping the bit of wire in his earlobe, he tried unscrewing one of the bolts securing the vent to the wall. There was little to no give, but he would keep at it.</p><p> </p><p>“Well Kufu? What have you to say for yourself?” The Reverend Mother asked.</p><p> </p><p>There was a long silence. “She asked you a question.” The other voice said. It was infuriating. The person spoke loud enough to be heard but in such a whispered tone that Castiel still could not make out anything else. Why though? They were already in a clandestine meeting. Surely they all knew each other? Unless this person was concealing their identity here as well.</p><p> </p><p>“What do you want me to say?” Kufu asked sounding annoyed.</p><p> </p><p>"What do I want you to say? What do I want you to say?" The old voice carried a tone of cruel mimicry.</p><p> </p><p>“So I misjudged the boy.” Kufu snapped. Castiel smiled. Both at the thought that Kufu was in trouble because of him, and also because the man seemed not to realize he was being goaded into this anger.</p><p> </p><p>“And a great deal more it would seem.” Whispered the other voice. Their words passed over Castiel’s skin like smoke. Foul and dark. He was beginning to fear this voice.</p><p> </p><p>“The Boy is but one piece upon the board.” The Reverend Mother said. “Like all the others. But it is <em>true</em> Kufu. In your desperation to prove yourself in spite of your gender, you have hopelessly complicated matters.”</p><p> </p><p>“I have only ever sought to complete the task <em>you</em> set me as best I can.” Kufu said slighted.</p><p> </p><p>“And in the process made an enemy of one who could have been a useful ally.” The third voice said. It was obvious – whoever they were – there was no love lost between them and Kufu. But Castiel was curious now. When the Reverend Mother spoke of others, did she mean his brothers? Or was there an even larger game afoot?</p><p> </p><p>“We must move quickly to reestablish all avenues of influence within the Palace.” The Reverend Mother said. “The sons of the Novaki blood are the means by which we will legalize the next phase. We need them pliant and in our control.”</p><p> </p><p>“It is one Princeling.” Kufu said.</p><p> </p><p>“A princeling you have allowed to grow <em>dangerously</em> independent! Your failure to look beyond yourself has lead you to miss that the boy is singularly gifted with the power of his blood. Perhaps even a touch of the <em>truthsay</em>. All but unheard of in males! It should have been brought to the attention of the Sisterhood years ago, that we might have molded him properly and exploited these tools for our purposes.”</p><p> </p><p>“He is but a boy.” Kufu said softly.</p><p> </p><p>“A pretty boy who will soon be a beautiful man. You cannot be so blind that you have failed to notice the very real Political value of that currency.” The other voice hissed.</p><p> </p><p>“It is true.” The Truthsayer said. “This feud between the warlords breeds opportunities for us to make bolder moves across the board. But when the time comes, we need access to the means to end it. We stand at the tipping point of an all out war. We must position ourselves carefully.”</p><p> </p><p>“You are not so infallible!” Kufu said. “It is easy to fire arrows from the dark. You sit in judgment of me and my every decision; every mistake…..yet you make none of your own. I am the only one here, risking everything for our cause. I who have sacrificed more than any other….the things I have <em>done</em>? I would be crucified before the God.”</p><p> </p><p>“It was always going to be so for the person in your position. A position, need I remind you; for which you begged and pleaded!” the old woman said. “You speak of sacrifice as if it were a hardship for you. As I recall you were only too willing cast aside your sacred vows; that you might sit at the right hand of power. A seat you have enjoyed for nearly three decades.”</p><p> </p><p>“I remember.” Kufu said.</p><p> </p><p>“A seat which has not been without its benefits….” The other voice said. There was no change in tone, but Castiel could detect a smile. “Or is the Queen no longer fucking you at every turn?”</p><p> </p><p>“That is of no import.” Kufu was quick to say.</p><p> </p><p>“Then why is it that now – when we are a scant few years from completing our work, and bringing all of our plans to fruition…you waver?” The Reverend Mother asked.</p><p> </p><p>“I merely ask if there is no alternative…..”Kufu said hesitantly.</p><p> </p><p>“Alternative? A Godspeaker should ask that?" the third voice put in.</p><p> </p><p>"I ask only what you see in the future with your superior abilities."</p><p> </p><p>"I see in the future what I have seen in the past. You well know the pattern of our affairs, Kufu. These events were set in motion the moment this child-Queen took up her mother’s throne. The rise of every empire….”</p><p> </p><p>“Contains within it the seeds of its own downfall.” Kufu finished for her. “I recall your teachings.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then recall them <strong>all</strong>. The Imperium, the Warlords, all the Great Houses, they are but bits of flotsam in the path of the flood of history. Dead wood that needs chopping and burning for a new forest to grow from the ash." The old woman said, and Castiel felt his blood turn to ice at the sound of her voice. Absolutely certain, and completely devoid of any human mercy.</p><p> </p><p>“What do you command?” Kufu asked then, defeat in his voice.</p><p> </p><p>“Only that you continue to do as you have done for so many years.” She said flatly. “Return to your duties. The Queen’s Hunting Party will return in a few days. You must be ready. The next few months are among the most crucial we have ever faced. A misstep could be catastrophic.”</p><p> </p><p>“Your Reverence.” Kufu said, and Castiel could hear him leave.</p><p> </p><p>*     *     *</p><p> </p><p>He waited, hoping to hear more from the other voice and perhaps identify the speaker. Surely the Reverend Mother would know their identity.</p><p> </p><p>“He is a liability.” The other voice said, no louder than before.</p><p> </p><p>“He is a man.” The Reverend Mother said. “Their weakness is as predictable as it is useful.”</p><p> </p><p>“He cannot be trusted any longer.” Said the voice.</p><p> </p><p>“He has never been.” The Truthsayer said. “But….he has served his purpose well. He was selected because he was certain to fall in love with the Queen, and to take steps protect her at all costs. Why do you think I salted his seed all those years ago?”</p><p> </p><p>“He does not know he is infertile?” the voice asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Of course not. Kufu needed to doubt. To wonder every time the Queen became pregnant whether it was <em>his</em> child growing in her belly.” She said sounding almost amused to her own cleverness.</p><p> </p><p>“A perfect means of control.” The other voice affirmed.</p><p> </p><p>“With the right lever it is possible to move a mountain. One simply has to find it. Kufu’s lever was always his own arrogance, and his need for his existence to be validated by women more powerful than he. The lover of a <em>Queen</em>? Especially one as brutal as this one? Oh yes. That suited him nicely.” The Truthsayer said cruelly.</p><p> </p><p>“Like believing he is our only agent within the Capital.” The voice said more than asked.</p><p> </p><p>“You are learning. Your time will come soon.”</p><p> </p><p>“Another matter.” The voice whispered. There was the sound of fabric rustling. Then of parchment being unfurled.</p><p> </p><p>“What is this?” The Truthsayer asked.</p><p> </p><p>“A raven from the High Godspeaker.” The voice said. “I was to put in your hands.”</p><p> </p><p>“And so you have. I will read it later.” She said. “What else? You know more than you are saying. Only a fool tries to keep information from a Truthsayer.”</p><p> </p><p>“There are rumors from Godhouses across the Queendom. The Oracles and Auguries are….in a state of great unrest. They are concerned about a nexus…” the voice said, speaking in a full whisper now. “A confluence of events. An intersection of countless delicate decisions beyond which….they cannot see.”</p><p> </p><p>"How soon?" she asked sounding nervous.</p><p> </p><p>"Three years. Five at most." the voice said.</p><p> </p><p>"We must pray  that will be enough time....." The old Reverend Mother said. </p><p> </p><p>"Already steps are being taken to ensure that it will." the voice said.</p><p> </p><p>“And where is this nexus?” the Truthsayer asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Et-Haravelle.”</p><p> </p><p>They did not speak again, and Castiel heard the door open and close a second time. He stayed hidden for another one hundred count before daring to move. He needed to get back to this chambers as soon as possible.</p><p> </p><p>He had <em>much</em> to think about.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>For those of you who are worried about the timeline of this fic as well as the young age of the characters don't worry. I'm just getting some foundation story work out of the way then I am gonna jump forward in time. I have no interest in writing smut with underaged kids. And older Dean and Castiel serve me much better in this world I have created.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Plans within plans</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In the aftermath of his discoveries Castiel begins to map out his next move.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>By the time Castiel left his storeroom hiding place and made his way back to his tower, the entire Palace had taken on the flat, impenetrable silence of true night. The temptation to run was strong, but he knew he could not. It was all he could do to put one foot in front of the other as he crept back to the safety of his rooms.</p><p> </p><p>No sooner had he cracked the door than Tran was there, showering him with questions.</p><p> </p><p>“There you are! Do you have any idea what time it is? I’ve been going insane thinking you were caught! Did you find them? Where’ve you been? I haven’t been able to think of anything else? What happened? Did anyone see you?” Tran asked, beginning to help Castiel undress automatically. For his part, Castiel let his arms be lifted, stepping out of his borrowed trousers when instructed; not bothering to respond as Tran continued to chatter away. He could tell Tran had been truly concerned – as much for himself as for Castiel. Back in his own dressing gown, Castiel wrapped himself in his favorite shawl all but collapsed on the nearest chair. The unique combination of excitement, terror and exertion of his night was catching up to him; and he was finding it difficult to keep his eyes open now that he was safe.</p><p> </p><p>“Castiel?” he heard Tran say.</p><p> </p><p>“Let’s sleep now. We can discuss everything in the morning. I’ll appreciate an extra set of ears and a keen mind.” Castiel admitted thickly, stifling a yawn.</p><p> </p><p>With a nod that was equal parts resignation and concern, Tran helped him up into the bed.</p><p> </p><p>*     *     *</p><p> </p><p>Despite everything, Castiel found he’d slept well. By the time Tran shook him awake gently, proper morning sunlight was already shining in through the windows.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll be back a little later to help you dress.” Tran said before slipping soundlessly from the bed. Castiel was still half asleep, but he offered a nod. He found as he lay back against the pillows that the bed was suddenly too large and too cold without Tran’s heat, which had until only moments before been wrapped snuggly around him. He didn’t recall at what point he and Tran had gotten quite so close in the night. Only that he didn’t mind the closeness near as much as he probably ought.</p><p> </p><p>Pushing back the covers, he slid from the bed himself. His hair was a matted mop spilling down his back. He’d been too eager for sleep to let Tran braid it for him the night before. Reaching for a brush, he raked it mercilessly along the length of his hair; pulling the mass of it over his shoulder to give him ease of access.</p><p> </p><p>His mind was gravid with details from the night before. Still cold, he walked into his dressings rooms and looked for his cape from the night before, draping it over his shoulders before walking into his private study. Sitting right at the back of his chambers, it wasn’t a room he used often. And it showed. He didn’t receive much in the way of correspondence that needed answering, and though a fair amount of his books were kept in here; he preferred to do his reading in front of the fire. The room therefore was beginning to look a bit shabby around the edges. It was obvious that when these had been Ezekiel’s rooms, the study had been meticulously maintained. But under Castiel’s neglect he could see spare lacings for his stomacher, baskets of ribbons and even what looked to be a fur tappet that needed mending strewn about. He made a note to create some order in here at some stage. But for now, he would not be diverted from the task at hand.</p><p> </p><p>Hastily clearing the overlarge desk – painted white of course – he rifled through the various drawers and cupboards until he found a roll of blank parchment and a writing box. The next moments are lost as he unpacked the small stone tablet, ink stone and picked out the right brush. Unstoppering the small bottle of water kept in the writing box, he poured it into the little ceramic pot; wetting the brush and swirling it on the ink stone before dabbing off the excess on the stone tablet. He was a little embarrassed by how foreign it felt in his fingers. He hadn’t practiced his calligraphy in ages.</p><p> </p><p>Weighing down the thick parchment in the corners with various bits and bobs from the desk, he closed his eyes and tried to remember as much as he could before dividing the page into three columns. At the top of the page, he wrote the names of Godspeaker Kufu in the first column, Reverend Mother in the second and in the third wrote simply a question mark to indicate the third voice. Next he went about carefully dissecting their conversation and annotating what each person had said. From the Reverend Mother’s intention to: “Legalize the next phase” of their plan using Castiel and his brothers, to Kufu’s infertility.</p><p> </p><p>Though as he neared the end of the page, he was dismayed to find that no clear pattern was forming in his mind. He set the brush aside. He needed more information. He loathed this feeling. It felt as if he was standing in a great bank of fog. He knew he was in the middle of something enormous, and yet he could barely see his own hand in front of his face.</p><p> </p><p>It was therefore an immense relief when the slave brought his tray.</p><p> </p><p>“Light See you my Lord.” The slave said.</p><p> </p><p>“And you.” Castiel answered rising from behind his desk. “I’ll eat in here.” He said leading the way to his front rooms. He didn’t need any prying eyes seeing what he was about in his study.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m feeling ill. I think I shall take all my meals in my rooms today.” He said installing himself at a small round table. “And send Tran to me please?”</p><p> </p><p>“My Lord.” The slave said inclining his head.</p><p> </p><p>Tran appeared a little while later. He looked freshly washed and his robes were new. He gave Castiel a conspiratorial smile as he entered. Castiel found himself returning it without thinking. “Light See you Tran.” He said.</p><p> </p><p>“And you Castiel.” Tran said helping himself to a grape from a bowl of fruit set to the side.</p><p> </p><p>“Oi!” Castiel said with mock indignation. “Those are for me!”</p><p> </p><p>“You hate grapes.” Tran said, smiling as he popped another one into his mouth with a flourish.</p><p> </p><p>“One would think you’d have eaten your fill on that tray last night.” Castiel muttered. Tran rewarded him with another smile.</p><p> </p><p>“Shall I prepare you a bath?” Tran asked still chewing. “Or are you too “ill”?” he asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Not now.” Castiel said setting down his fork. “Close the door.” He said pointing with his chin. As soon as he and Tran were alone he started relating the events of the night before in as much detail as he could manage. He watched Tran’s eyes grow wide, but he didn’t interrupt; his expression growing scared as Castiel told him everything that had been said, and the mysterious voice he hadn’t been able to identify.</p><p> </p><p>“Who do you think it was?” Tran asked.</p><p> </p><p>“I have no idea. Perhaps someone from the Sisterhood? A member of the Southern Delegation?” Castiel suggested.</p><p> </p><p>“Seems highly unlikely to me.” Tran said.</p><p> </p><p>“How do you mean?” Castiel asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Well from the sounds of it they seem to know a great deal about the inner workings of the Palace. Even down to such specific details as <strong>your</strong> level of education. Also, if it was a stranger; why bother disguising their voice? Or hiding their face? No. That the voice went to such lengths to keep hidden, indicates that Kufu would have recognized them instantly had they not. That means someone familiar. Someone from <em>here</em>, in the Palace. Someone important.” Tran said.</p><p> </p><p>Castiel felt his spirits fall. “You’re right. Of course you’re right….” He sighed. “I suppose on some level I just….didn’t want that to be the case. If Kufu was the only conspirator in our midst it would mean….”</p><p> </p><p>“That you wouldn’t have to mistrust anyone else.” Tran finished for him. “I understand.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m frightened Tran.” Castiel admitted. “The way they were talking…….I can’t help but feel as if these plans they are working towards are going to be…..<em>terrible</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“Do you think this has something to do with your dreams?” Tran asked almost hesitantly. Castiel shrugged, throwing his hands up in the air. He hadn’t really allowed himself to consider the possibility.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know. I’m tormented by dreams of death and blood and now we learn of a conspiracy in our midst and some mysterious rising evil marshalling against us? Would be something a coincidence if the two weren’t related. But who knows? Maybe Kufu was telling the truth and I am just a silly boy having nightmares and trying to aggrandize myself.” Castiel said.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you really believe that?” Tran asked.</p><p> </p><p>“I will if you will….” Castiel said cracking a smile.</p><p> </p><p>They sat there in silence for a few moments.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m going to need a few things Tran. I need a map of the Provinces; as detailed as you can find.” He began. “I’m also going to need some kind of codex or…I don’t know…a <em>list</em> detailing birth, marriage and death records for all of the Noble Houses.”</p><p> </p><p>He finished off in a sigh, thrusting his hands into his hair and giving it a frustrated little tug.</p><p> </p><p>“Perhaps it would be easier for me to assist you…if you told me what you were looking for?” Tran suggested looking at him strangely.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t <strong>know</strong> what I’m looking for!” Castiel said. “Proof! A sign! Something to prove that this……cabal…..this <em>conspiracy</em>…..even exists. To hear them talk their influence is far reaching. Surely there must be some sign of it. Something that can be used against them.”</p><p> </p><p>“Calm yourself. You won’t get anywhere making yourself sick with worry.” Tran said.</p><p> </p><p>“They’re here Tran. They’re real.” He said almost desperately.</p><p> </p><p>“I know. But you’re not going to uncover their plans in one morning. You said it yourself. They have had years to map out their every move. You learned about their existence twelve hours ago. Castiel these people….they’re powerful. We have to be cautious now.” Tran said speaking as if to a wild animal. Castiel felt himself deflate, sensing Tran move to stand behind him and releasing a happy sound when Tran began kneading the tense muscles of his shoulders.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re right. But I do want those maps.” He said leaning his head to the side so Tran’s nimble fingers could gather his hair out of the way and massage a particularly sore spot.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll get them myself. And anything else we need. I don’t trust any of the others.” Tran said. Castiel was familiar with the feeling.</p><p> </p><p>“Kufu’s involvement is particularly terrifying. Is he alone among the Godspeakers? Or are they all in league? The Reverend Mother received a direct communication from the High Godspeaker! Is he a conspirator as well? Or is he unaware of her true purposes?” Castiel mused aloud.</p><p> </p><p>“There must be records of which Godspeakers were assigned to which Warlords and Noble Houses.” Tran suggested.</p><p> </p><p>“Find out. There might be something in there.” Castiel admitted. “It might be a good idea to better acquaint ourselves with the more powerful Noble Houses as well. I can’t imagine the minor houses would be of any particular interest. But those Houses which are influential? Who have active treaties with the Palace? Or whose future is closely aligned with the Crown? There should be some records on that at least?” he said as much as asked. For a second, he bristled. All the knowledge he was looking for would’ve been readily available if he’d been a girl. But a boy’s education barely included anything in the way of history, politics or statecraft. Rather he’d learned culture, art and languages. He knew how to bow and curtsy according to people’s station and make polite conversation on a variety of topics. But nothing that was going to help him in this quest to outwit these people.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>CASTIEL?!</em>” a shrill voice said from beyond the door.</p><p> </p><p>They both looked at each other in confusion.</p><p> </p><p>“Castiel?!” the voice fair shrieked again. “Where are you? CASSIE?!?!?!?”</p><p> </p><p>“Gabriel….” Castiel said rushing out of his seat, only making it halfway to the door before Gabriel came bursting in.</p><p> </p><p>“Ah! There you are.” Gabriel said in obvious anger. His face was discolored a rather unsightly shade of pink and it was obvious that his brother was in a mighty huff about something. “Funny. You don’t <em>look</em> like you’re at death’s door?”</p><p> </p><p>“Light see you as well Gabriel.” Castiel said backing away. “And just what do you think you’re about barging in here? What if I’d been undressed?”</p><p> </p><p>“If I see something I haven’t seen before I’ll throw a coin at it!” Gabriel said widening his eyes. “Tran out.” He ordered making a flicking his fingers and pointing to the door.</p><p> </p><p>“He can stay!” Castiel countered, fighting the urge to cringe when Gabriel rounded on him.</p><p> </p><p>“Fine. Let there be a witness when I strangle you!” Gabriel said. “Explain yourself!”</p><p> </p><p>“Gabriel.” Castiel said sharply. “Light blind me! What is wrong with you? Would you like some wine? Tran” he said pointing with chin at the untouched bottle on the table.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t try to get on my good side Cassie! I woke up with a headache between my eyes, and now because of you it has moved right up over my head and shot all the way down my spine!” Gabriel said motioning with his hands to punctuate his point. He nearly knocked one of the tasseled combs out of his hair – which had been meticulously piled high on his head – as he spoke.</p><p> </p><p>“What happened to the wine?” he asked after a moment, fanning his fingers with anger and Tran all but ran to pour him a glass.</p><p> </p><p>“What have I <em>done</em> brother?” Castiel asked utterly perplexed.</p><p> </p><p>“Where shall I start? The cooks have been in an uproar because Godspeaker Kufu annexed all the game birds they were going to prepare for dinner! This so they could be sacrificed in <em>prayer</em> for <strong>you</strong>!” Gabriel said. Castiel fought the urge to roll his eyes at the mention of Kufu’s name.</p><p> </p><p>“After your little performance in the North Wing yesterday morning, the rumor around the Palace is that you’ve been scourged by demons and lost you mind! Which I’m beginning to think, might actually be the case! Lieutenant Tessa has asked to be reassigned. You recall her? You threatened you’d wear her children’s eyes as beads in your hair? Well it would seem she took you at your word.” Gabriel said, planting his free hands on his hips and pulling his mouth into a line as if to say “so there”.</p><p> </p><p>“With all of our sisters off hunting with our Mother, the lovely task of reassigning her <em>and</em> finding you a suitable replacement has fallen to me.” Gabriel said speaking rapidly – never missing a beat when Tran handed him a rather <strong>full</strong> glass of wine.</p><p> </p><p>“Only to find myself <em>besieged</em> by two highly upset minstrels as well.” He said pausing to take a mighty sip. “You missed your dance lesson with Mistress Yondu, and your music lesson with Mistress Mala this morning. And most importantly, you missed luncheon <em>with <strong>me</strong></em>!”</p><p> </p><p>‘Ah. So now we come to the source of his true discontent.’ Castiel thought.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve been sitting in the water garden for an hour, waiting like a fool!” Gabriel said taking another sip. Castiel widened his eyes. If he kept going at this pace, his brother would be quite intoxicated. “Only to hear that apparently you’re <em>sick</em>. Again. Well I don’t believe you! I want the truth Castiel and I want it right now!”</p><p> </p><p>“I should love to know how! You haven’t let me get a word in since you arrived!” Castiel snapped. He worked hard to school his face. He really didn’t feel like dealing with Gabriel’s dramatics just then. But at the same time, he didn’t want to bark some thoughtless remark and make things worse.</p><p> </p><p>“Have a seat brother.” He said. “And do have a care. That is excellent wine and you’re swigging it like Sadsa.”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t change the subject Castiel. Something is going on with you and I want to know what it is.” Gabriel said already sitting down in a rustle of skirts. The gown he was wearing was a dusky violet shade that went nicely with his eyes, and his legs – though shorter and stockier than Castiel’s – were shown off nicely by the sky blue trousers and boots he wore. Castiel felt a twinge of guilt. Gabriel had obviously gone to some effort for their luncheon and Castiel had forgotten altogether.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry Gabriel. Truly. I did not endeavor purposely to miss our luncheon. My mind has just been…..I’m sorry.” he said, deciding not to reach for an excuse and instead just admit that he’d been thoughtless and wrong. He held up his hand and Tran handed him his own glass of wine. Castiel waggled his eyebrow when he saw Tran had poured himself one as well.</p><p> </p><p>“And what of your lessons?” Gabriel asked.</p><p> </p><p>“I had no stomach or mind for music today. And I’m certainly in no mood for dancing.” Castiel said honestly.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re not <em>still</em> obsessing over what that old <strong>bitch</strong> said to you?” Gabriel asked seeming to settle now that he’d had a chance to rant and rave.</p><p> </p><p>“After all of twenty four hours? Yes Gabriel I’m afraid it is still on my mind.” Castiel said. He weighed whether or not to confide in his brother about what he’d learned but swiftly decided against it. It was too soon. And he didn’t enough in the way of information. Gabriel was hardly known as the best secret keeper and Castiel didn’t want to risk him alerting the wrong people that he’d found them out.</p><p> </p><p>“All the more reason to focus on something else.” Gabriel said sounding impatient. “Cassie, I don’t actually enjoy playing the part of the nagging big brother. But we do need to start getting serious about your nameday celebration. The days are flying by and there’s still so much we haven’t discussed.”</p><p> </p><p>“Gabriel please? Just for once, can we have <em>one</em> conversation that doesn’t lead back to the thrice cursed party?” Castiel said burying his face in his hand. Too late, he saw the look of horror and hurt flash across his brother’s face. “I didn’t mean that.” He added.</p><p> </p><p>“The thrice cursed party.” Gabriel repeated softly.</p><p> </p><p>“Gabriel….” Castiel began but was silence when the glass in Gabriel’s hand – still half full of wine – smashed against the wall in a shower of glass and wine alike.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve been designing menus for months. To make sure that not one – NOT ONE - of the <em>thirteen</em> dishes to be served to the two thousand people who have accepted the invitation; are a repetition of any of our <strong>ten</strong> siblings’ namedays, when they made their public debut. Did you even know that? No.” Gabriel said and Castiel understood that this was a time for him to be quiet.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you have any idea how many Noble Houses are <em>clamoring</em> to contribute to your pageant? Every day I receive between thirty to fifty letters just from here in the capital. Not to mention ravens and unsolicited gifts from further afield? Of course not. And you’re also blithely unaware of the fact that Yondu and Mala – who you so casually dismissed and slighted this morning – were brought specially for you all the way from Et-Tanikar. Do you know anything of the costs involved? Anything more costly than a bag of beads and I have to beg the Master of Coin Mother appointed to oversee household expenses. Who is the Master of Coin you may ask? Why Cassie, it’s the Godspeaker you threatened with banishment yesterday!” Gabriel said not meeting his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t know any of this. And you don’t care to. Because you’re annoyed by such details. They are beneath you.” His brother said, and there was genuine emotion in his voice now.</p><p> </p><p>“I know what you think about me Castiel. What everyone does. With my silly costumes and my little plays. But I am the <em>only</em> one who cares about this kind of thing. Mother has time only for her politicking. Not one of our brothers will do this for you. Our sisters?” he paused to laugh. “And Father is dead.”</p><p> </p><p>“Gabriel I’m sorry. You know I’m no good at this kind of thing. I don’t know about….flowers and fabrics and hair and…..everything.” Castiel said reaching for his brother’s hand. “You’re so much better at all of it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well I’ve had to be haven’t I? You have the luxury not to care about such things because you have always been beautiful.” Gabriel said bitterly. “I might be plain as dirt. But at least I know it. And people <em>still</em> talk of my fourteenth nameday celebration.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’ve never been plain to me hen.” Castiel said leaning his head on Gabriel’s sweet smelling shoulder. It was a private nickname they rarely used. It stemmed from years before when the two of them – much chagrined from a scolding from the Queen – had “run away” all the way to the chicken house in one of the lower courtyards; fully intent on living there. They’d even devised the master plan that they’d survive by selling the Queen her own eggs and laugh nightly at their clever deception. Of course, they hadn’t taken into account just how smelly a chicken coop would be. And after an encounter with a rather recalcitrant rooster they’d swallowed their pride and crawled back to their lives as Princes.</p><p> </p><p>“Tomorrow.” Castiel said. “I’ll do my music and dance lessons after breakfast. Then you and I can sit down and begin hammering out a few of these details. As long as it takes.”</p><p> </p><p>“You mean it?” Gabriel asked skeptically. “You won’t forget or be sick again?”</p><p> </p><p>“I swear before the Light.” Castiel said absently touching his hand to his forehead.</p><p> </p><p>“Alright then.” Gabriel said with a small smile. Castiel returned it. Gabriel felt his emotions powerfully. But it wasn’t in him to remain angry for long. “We’ll meet in my rooms. Yours are so drab. And wear something pretty. You’ll be no use to me making aesthetic decisions if you look like death.”</p><p> </p><p>And with that he was gone. Castiel gave himself over to a chuckle. He didn’t always know what he’d done to deserve a brother like Gabriel. But just then he was grateful.</p><p> </p><p>“Tran?” he asked. “Please see to the rescheduling of my lessons for tomorrow?”</p><p> </p><p>“You were being <em>serious</em>?” Tran asked. “About the lessons and the party and all that?”</p><p> </p><p>“Absolutely.”</p><p> </p><p>“Do you still want the maps?” Tran asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Course.” Castiel said with a frown. “Why wouldn’t I?”</p><p> </p><p>“I suppose I didn’t think you’d want to sacrifice even a moment that could be spent doing research?” Tran asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Weren’t you listening?” Castiel asked finishing his wine. “It would seem I have a wellspring of information about the Queendom, the Noble Houses and the inner workings of the Palace right in front of my nose”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Smoke on the Horizon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Dee-Ann learns more of the world, and begins to suspect that things are not as cut and dry as he once believed.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Just a very quick little chapter to get us to where we need to be. I want to wrap up Act 1 quickly so we can get to the meeting we've all been waiting for!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As the God desired, the Godspeaker Caravan left Et-Haravelle the next newsun. Dee-Ann rode with Maeghara and Derubeis at the rear in open wagon pulled by a team of stolid oxen. Behind them Obid and her fellow slave pulled the cart that carried Maeghara and Derubeis’ possessions and wealth. He watched Obid sweat and strain, and smiled so she could see.</p><p> </p><p>‘No more jabby spear Obid. No more eyes full of maggot questions.’ He thought.</p><p> </p><p>She was just a slave now, while he was still precious and beautiful. There were ten Et-Haravelle Godspeakers in the caravan. Six drove covered carts laden with mysterious Godspeaker goods. One drove an open cart full of caged birds for each newsun sacrifice. The other three walked. As the sun climbed higher, the caravan passed the high walled barracks, where Maeghara said Et-Haravelle Warlord’s warriors lived. They passed farms and orchards and pastures full of grazing cows.</p><p> </p><p>Dee-Ann thought the land looked fat. But Maeghara and Derubeis frowned at each other and called it sad. Two fingers passed Highsun they came upon a band of warriors riding back towards Et-Haravelle city. Some wore red and black feathers in their hair, and hunting birds on their leather chests. But others covered their godbraids with caps of spotted gray cat-skins; long tails bouncing down their straight backs. And on their leather chests brilliant greens stones picked out a snarling cat face.</p><p> </p><p>Dee-Ann shifted on his wagon seat to watch the straight backed warriors as they rode by. They did not yield the road to the Godspeakers like every other traveler they had encountered. But they did drop into single file and slow from a canter to a trot.</p><p> </p><p>So fierce. So proud. He thought they were beautiful.</p><p> </p><p>Derubeis leaned close. “Mega?! What can this mean? The Falcon and the Woodcat riding together?” she asked sounding afraid. “Et-Haravelle and Et-Bajadek are not friends?!”</p><p> </p><p>“Shhhh!!!!” hissed Maeghara. “Wait until we are alone!”</p><p> </p><p>Dee-Ann counted sixty riders. Forty of them were Birds and sixty were Cats. When the last warrior had trotted past them, and they were once again cantering towards distant Et-Haravelle, Maeghara let out a sigh.</p><p> </p><p>“Here is a tangle Rubi.” She said.</p><p> </p><p>“A tangle?” said Derubeis, and clutched her snake amulet. “Mega. It’s a disaster! Why do warriors of Et-Bajadek and Et-Haravelle Warlords ride together? Bajadek Warlord is a sworn enemy of Et-Banotaj. And Banotaj Warlord is to mate with Et-Haravelle’s son when he comes of age in two seasons time? Haravelle Warlord must not smile at Bajadek Warlord. Their warriors must not ride shoulder to fist along the road!”</p><p> </p><p>Pinching the bridge of her nose, Maeghara toyed with a beaded godbraid. “Bajadek Warlord has two daughters, and bears no love for either….” She said slowly as though thinking aloud. “She is a lusty woman. She could yet bear a third daughter worth loving but….”</p><p> </p><p>“The God took her husband. And he was old.” Said Derubeis, before her entire face lit up in horror. “Aaaaaaiiiiieeeee! Mega!” her voice was a shocked whisper. “Surely?! No! She dare not!”</p><p> </p><p>The scorpion on Maeghara’s cheek rippled. “I think so.”</p><p> </p><p>“But Mega…..?!?!” Derubeis blustered. Maeghara smoothes her robes.</p><p> </p><p>“If Banotaj Warlord dies daughterless, Bajadek Warlord can make a claim on her lands. I suspect she does not trust that a daughter birthed by Banotaj Warlord upon Et-Harvelle’s son will die like all her other Daughters have died. I suspect Bajadek Warlord reasons it is better that Banotaj does not mate with the Haravelle son at all. Better that <em>she</em> have him, <strong>kill </strong>Banotaj when the son’s theft leads to war….and claim Et-Banotaj lands as her own; and afterwards birth a daughter worth loving.”</p><p> </p><p>Silence fell like a shadow over both of their faces.</p><p> </p><p>“It is a sound strategy.” Maeghara said after a moment.</p><p> </p><p>“But Mega? Et-Haravelle’s son is God Promised to Et-Banotaj? Haravelle Warlord cannot give him to Bajadek.”</p><p> </p><p>“No.” said Maeghara and resumed tugging on her godbraid. “I wonder Rubi…..truly I wonder.”</p><p> </p><p>Confused, Dee-Ann moved closer on the wooden seat until he was right next to her and touched Maeghara’s arm. “Maeghara. What is God Promised?”</p><p> </p><p>“Promised in the presence of the God!” Derubeis snapped. “In the Godhouse of Et-Banotaj! Et-Haravelle’s High Godspeaker herself sealed the promise with sacrifice before the Warlords, Et-Banotaj’s High Godspeaker and selected witnesses.” She continued. She preened a little. “Mega and <em>I</em> represented the Traders!”</p><p> </p><p>Dee-Ann was not interested in her silly boastings. “What is High Godspeaker?”</p><p> </p><p>Derubeis rolled her eyes. “Stupid monkey. Mega!”</p><p> </p><p>Maeghara lifted her hand frowning. Derubeis fell silent. Her feelings were hurt. Dee-Ann said nothing but inside he smiled. Derubeis had lost, and <em>he</em> had won. He always won. He was precious and beautiful.</p><p> </p><p>Maeghara said. “A High Godspeaker rules <em>all</em> the Godspeakers of a Warlord’s lands”</p><p> </p><p>“Who rules…High Godspeaker?” Dee-Ann asked.</p><p> </p><p>“The God of course you silly brat!” Derubeis tittered.</p><p> </p><p>As usual, Dee-Ann ignored her. “Like Caravan Maeghara....Obid rule slaves….Maeghara rule Obid.”</p><p> </p><p>Maeghara smiled. “Clever Dee-Ann. Exactly so.”</p><p> </p><p>Pleased with his praise, Dee-Ann smiled back and thought to himself: ‘So this is the world. Slaves and Rulers. Anyone not a Ruler is a Slave.’</p><p> </p><p>He would remember that.</p><p> </p><p>“Maeghara? God Promised means the God wishes Et-Haravelle he-brat for Banotaj Warlord?”</p><p> </p><p>She pursed her lips. “That is…one way of putting it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then how can Bajadek Warlord take Haravelle he-brat?” Dee-Ann asked. “The God cannot want Et-Haravelle he-brat for Banotaj <em>and</em> Bajadek?”</p><p> </p><p>“That depends on whose Godspeaker you ask. Bajadek’s Godspeakers no doubt tell her she is in the right” said Derubeis under her breath. Maeghara gave Derubeis a dark look.</p><p> </p><p>“Hush Dee-Ann. It is the God’s work and not for questioning in the world. That way lies madness.” She said.</p><p> </p><p>Yes. <em>Madness</em>. If High Godpeakers spoke the God’s want, then how could they speak different words? Was the <em>God</em> mad? Not knowing which want it truly wanted?</p><p> </p><p>Petrified. Not breathing, he waited for the God to strike him dead for even thinking such a thought. The God did not, so he asked another; inside his head where only it could hear. If the God <em>did</em> know its want, then did Et-Haravelle Godspeaker lie when she said he-brat should go to Banotaj Warlord? Or was the lie that it should go to Bajadek? Why would the God let a Godspeaker lie?</p><p> </p><p>He did not know. The God did not answer. Maeghara would know, but he dared not ask. He would wait and in time, the God would tell him. If it wanted to. If it knew.</p><p> </p><p>“But what of Haravelle Warlord in all of this?” Derubeis asked. “She and the Novakari Queen are famous friends? The Halls ring with songs of their closeness. Et-Haravelle Warlord sacrificed her <em>sword arm</em> saving the life of the Novakari Queen.”</p><p> </p><p>“True. They are friends…” Maeghara said. “Wartime friends. Their friendship was forged in blood, and battle. These are times of peace. Such times may eat away at that bond like acid.”</p><p> </p><p>“None of that changes that Et-Haravelle Warlord is no fool. And the Warlords of Et-Banotaj’s alliance with Et-Novakar has been passed Mother to Daughter for a hundred generations. Surely she must see that if her son is stolen by Bajadek Warlord and Banotaj falls……Et-Novakar will be duty bound to act? They will be on opposite sides of the conflict.”</p><p> </p><p>“I wonder if Et-Banotaj Warlord knows Bajadek Warriors ride freely in the lands of Et-Haravelle? I wonder….” She said, but cut off when Maeghara kicked her.</p><p> </p><p>“You wonder too much Rubi!” she hissed under her breath. “Hold your prattling tongue!</p><p> </p><p>Chastened, Derubeis stared at the walking Godspeakers until her eyes filled with water. “I am sorry Mega. I am weary. I am homesick. I long for our villa in dear Et-Banotaj….”</p><p> </p><p>With a deep sigh, Maeghara put her hand on Derubeis’ cheek. “I know Rubi. I too am homesick. I will be well pleased when this caravan is over. Do not weep. We will be home soon.”</p><p> </p><p>*    *    *</p><p> </p><p>It took the Godspeaker caravan thirty seven Highsuns to reach the lands of Banotaj Warlord. In that time, they met the warriors of Et-Bajadek five more times. Maeghara and Derubeis said nothing of them. They closed their eyes and pretended not to see.</p><p> </p><p>Dee-Ann knew better than to speak on that.</p><p> </p><p>The first time he saw Et-Banotaj, he knew then what a <em>fat land</em> truly was. So much water! Streams and lakes and rivers and bubbling springs! So much green grass! Countless fruit laden branches and fields of grain and fat grazing cattle and sheep, singing birds and well fed wildlife. He understood then that Maeghara and Derubeis were right. The rest of Mijak <em>was</em> turning brown. He did not want to think what might happen when <em>all</em> the green was gone from the other Warlords’ lands.</p><p> </p><p>As they slowly journeyed, caged in their uncomfortable wagon; Maeghara continued to teach him. She gave him all the words in her possession. She bade him use them, to talk of his life in the Savage East and the caravan they’d traveled with. Each newsun sacrifice. The road. The sky. The clouds. The trees. The flowers. The fruit. The crops. And the herds of beasts in their open pastures.</p><p> </p><p>Everything he could see and remember he could talk about said Maeghara. So he did. Because that was her want.</p><p> </p><p>It was his want too. He would be more than a village goat, bleating and shitting and waiting for the knife.</p><p> </p><p>Twenty three Highsuns after entering Et-Banotaj’s lands; he was asleep in the bouncing wagon when Derubeis’ finger poked him in the ribs.</p><p> </p><p>“Lazy monkey! Open your eyes and look upon perfection!” she hissed. “We have reached Et-Banotaj city at long last.” She said, silly wasted water running down her cheeks again.</p><p> </p><p>He ignored the creaking and complaining of his muscles and sat up, looking ahead where Maeghara and Derubeis were looking. His heart heaved and twisted and split right open.</p><p> </p><p>Et-Banotaj Warlord’s city was beautiful. Unlike Et-Haravelle, squatting like half a melon on a plate and skulking in man-made shadows; the city spread around the base of a towering hill which rose resplendent from the green growing plane as though the God’s own fist had punched upwards from beneath the earth.</p><p> </p><p>So many roofs in the city Et-Banotaj, Dee-Ann knew he could never count them all. Trees too! Heavy laden with fruit. Maeghara’s stern face was gentle with smiling.</p><p> </p><p>“See Et-Banotaj’s pinnacle Dee-Ann. There is the Godhouse on its peak. It is second only to the Godhouse of Et-Novakar in all of Mijak. There below it, the Warlord’s Palace. Below the Palace, at the Pinnacle’s base, within strong walls are the Barracks where her warriors live”</p><p> </p><p>He looked where she pointed, and marveled how the Palace grew out of the hillside. He looked at the height of the Godhouse. Et-Banotaj Godhouse made Et-Haravelle Godhouse look small. Look nothing. Truly, the God loved the lands of Et-Novakar and Et-Banotaj.</p><p> </p><p>“Isn’t it glorious Mega. We are home!” said Derubeis.</p><p> </p><p>Getting off from the wagon, Dee-Ann walked next to Maeghara, reaching for her hand and smiling when she let him take it. Derubeis – still sniveling – joined them next to the wagon a moment later. They walked right up to the Gates of the city.</p><p> </p><p>“Home.” Dee-Ann whispered to himself. The word felt strange in his mouth. Even stranger in his heart. He had never belonged anywhere, or to anyone. Not until Maeghara. He looked up at her, then back at her shining city, and they became one and the same.</p><p> </p><p>“Here I am God. I am home.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I know canonically Ellen doesn't have a son. But I need to invent one for the purposes of this story. All shall be revealed! I promise I'll write extra smut later on to make up for it!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. The Bazaar of Et-Banotaj</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Dee-Ann has reached Et-Banotaj at last. He's come a long way from a nameless he-brat under a kitchen table; and now he is ready to begin taking his first steps into his future.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The sun was gone now. The Godmoon and his wife strode in the sky together. Obid and the other slave’s harsh breathing was loud in the hush that had fallen over the city, as Dee-Ann walked in silence between Maeghara and Derubeis. Flowering trees lined both edges of the smooth pavestones beneath their feet. Floating on the stirring night air, faint streams of music, voices and still the singing of silver godbells teased their ears. A teasing aroma of spicy meat made Dee-Ann hungry.</p><p> </p><p>“The dining district dances.” Said Derubeis sounding mournful. “We could stop and eat Mega. Roast lamb. Sweet wine. I pine for something other than Godcakes and ale.”</p><p> </p><p>“No.” said Maeghara. “I want a private night within our own walls before venturing to visit with Trader friends Rubi. There will be questions we have not decided how to answer.”</p><p> </p><p>“But what if the villa has no food for us?” Derubeis fretted. “That Ashar and the rest of the wretched slaves? They have probably eaten us out of all provisions!”</p><p> </p><p>“Ashar knows better. He knows your belly when we return from caravanning, and he knows well to keep the entire villa in readiness for our unexpected return.” Maeghara laughed. Dee-Ann plucked at Maeghara’s sleeve.</p><p> </p><p>“Who is Ashar?” he asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Our villa’s Chief Slave. You will mind him Dee-Ann. For his word is my word.” She said looking down at him. “If you disobey him, Rubi will have her wish and see you beaten.”</p><p> </p><p>Derubeis chut-chutted under her breath. “I should have had my wish many highsuns before now!” she said. “You should have called for a litter! The Trader’s District is still such a long way!”</p><p> </p><p>“After so long traveling on a camel and in wagons, the walk will do you good. And think how it will spice your appetite?” Maeghara said gently.</p><p> </p><p>“My appetite needs no spicing!” Derubeis snorted. “The godcakes of Et-Haravelle are the worst I have ever tasted!” she said flapping her hands. For the first time since he and the short Trader had met, Dee-Ann thought he was right.</p><p> </p><p>“What amuses Dee-Ann?” Maeghara asked. He would have liked to hold her hand again, but that wasn’t a gesture for him to make. She must touch first always. He smiled at her instead.</p><p> </p><p>“I am pleased to be here Maeghara. Et-Banotaj is the city of cities.” He said carefully.</p><p> </p><p>“Can it be possible?” Derubeis asked. “For once the monkey speaks words worth hearing?”</p><p> </p><p>Maeghara simply nodded and carried on walking.</p><p> </p><p>*     *     *</p><p> </p><p>It took a long time to reach Maeghara’s villa. Once they reached the city proper they saw many other people on the streets, on foot; or traveling in litters carried by strong tall slaves. Maeghara and Derubeis were recognized over and over. Many times they were stopped and welcomed home with smiles and invitations to share food and wine and all the gossip.</p><p> </p><p>“let us take the discreet way home.” Said Derubeis at last. “Or we will never see out beds before newsun. And I am tired.”</p><p> </p><p>The road was now lit by torches, and they walked the side streets deep into the heart of the Trader’s District. This section of the city was almost halfway between the Gatehouse of the city and its Pinnacle. The Trader’s District was peaceful, sweet smelling and almost every street was lined with dwellings. Some with grass and trees between their closed doors and the cobbles, others hidden behind stone walls with doors built into them. Some of the houses had beautiful slaves by the doors. When they thought Dee-Ann and Maeghara and Derubeis approached them, they stood very tall; only to slump when they passed them by.</p><p> </p><p>He wished he knew what they were for.</p><p> </p><p>“Where there is a Slave Dee-Ann, either the Mistress is out and the Slave will say so, or she is willing to meet with visitors and the Slave will announce them.” Maeghara said.</p><p> </p><p>Aaaaaiiiiieeeeeee!!!! She was like the God to read his mind so easily.</p><p> </p><p>“And if there is no Slave? The Mistress wishes to be alone?” he asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Exactly so.” She answered him. “No civilized woman will argue with a slave, or attempt to enter an unattended door. Such an arrangement prevents unpleasantness.”</p><p> </p><p>He sighed. “Aiiee Maeghara. Dee-Ann has so much to learn.”</p><p> </p><p>She tugged his godbraids. “And you are learning. You speak beautifully now. I am pleased with you.” She said. He gifted her with his widest smile.</p><p> </p><p>At last they came to a blue wooden door set into a high wall of pale cream stone. The most beautiful slave stood guard before it. She was tall and muscled and clad in black silk pantaloons with a fistful of amulets around her neck and her bare chest tattooed with snakes and lizards. Her scarlet slave braid was heavy with godbells. She saw them, and dropped hard to her knees; her face lighting up in a radiant smile.</p><p> </p><p>“Mistress Marghara! Mistress Derubeis! The God sees your Mistresses! It sees you in its Eye!” the slave cheered.</p><p> </p><p>“Stand Nim.” Said Maeghara. “And open the door. Your caravanning Mistresses are finally come home.”</p><p> </p><p>The slave Nim leapt to her feet and flung open the door. “Ashar will weep to see you Mistresses. Everything is beautiful! As you left it!”</p><p> </p><p>“And what of Hooli?” Derubeis asked. “Does he thrive?”</p><p> </p><p>“He thrives Mistress.” The slave Nim said bowing low. As Derubeis made silly happy noises Maeghara gestured at Obid and the other slave.</p><p> </p><p>“Take these ones and the cart to the villa’s rear entrance Nim. Help them unload the coin boxes into the strong room, then see them to the Slave’s quarters for food and a mattress. We will see no visitors tonight.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes Mistress.” The slave Nim said.</p><p> </p><p>Dee-Ann could see her wondering about him. Her gaze kept slipping sideways to stare. But he didn’t say a word. He just stood back so they could pass by.</p><p> </p><p>“It would appear my garden’s haven’t died.” Said Derubeis. Dee-Ann marveled at her gardens, stretching farther than any goat pasture in the village. Flowers rioted in perfumed profusion. There were fountains bubbling, with deep bowls filled with striped fish. Delicate trees with silver branches and wispy white seed pods drooped towards the dark green grass. There was a crimson Godpost topped with a black Scorpion. A vivid carved snake sailed sinuously around it, the fat drop of poison at the tip of each exposed fang was a green gemstone larger than Dee-Ann’s clenched fist. He clutched his Snake Eye amulet amazed.</p><p> </p><p>“The Godsnake of Et-Novakar.” Said Maeghara. “It is our symbol, a gift from the God itself. Proof that Et-Novakar and its people are its most blessed subjects.”</p><p> </p><p>Ahead, the villa; built from that same pale cream stone stretched perhaps one hundred tall woman paces wide. Its roof was tiled in black and gold, and the enormous double front doors were painted black and bound with bronze. Dee-Ann stared. It was beautiful. As Maeghara put her foot on the first of four white steps leading to the villa; the doors were thrown open.</p><p> </p><p>“Mistress Maeghara! Mistress Derubeis!”</p><p> </p><p>Another slave wrapped head to toe in banded golden fabric. His head was bristled with short godbraids at his face, but his scarlet slave braid reached all the way to his knees. Over his robes he wore a green silk shawl bound with tinkling amulets. He wasn’t a young man Dee-Ann realized. He was just well fed which gave him the appearance of being young.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes Ashar. Your mistresses are home.” Maeghara said.</p><p> </p><p>“And we’re starving!” said Derubeis. “Get out of the doorway you stupid man! And find us some food at once!”</p><p> </p><p>Ashar bowed low, then retreated into the villa. “Of course. Of course mistress. Baths are being prepared for you now. I have roused the kitchen, and your chambers are being scented as we speak.”</p><p> </p><p>Dee-Ann followed wordlessly passed the threshold. Stranded, struck dumb; he could do nothing but stare at the shiny green stone floor and the green walls with images of people and places bound inside golden borders and hung from hooks. He stared at the gold and silver tables covered in carved stone people and animals. At the bowls and bowls of freshly cut flowers. Inside the villa was light as day. There were so many lamps and candles burning.</p><p> </p><p>“This is Dee-Ann.” Said Maeghara. “You and I will talk of him in due course. For now he goes below. But not with the others.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes Mistress.” Said the slave Ashar, smiling as though he knew a secret. He clapped his hands, and moments later a short slave with gray godbraids and lines on his face appeared. His robes were wool, and dyed a soft yellow. “Naga! Take this Dee-Ann below the stairs. See to his comfort and settle him in the single chamber.”</p><p> </p><p>“Maeghara?” Dee-Ann asked sounding uncertain.</p><p> </p><p>“Go.” She said. “Keep your council, and heed Ashar and this slave Naga or you will displease me.”</p><p> </p><p>He would sooner throw himself from Et-Banotaj’s pinnacle. The slave Naga turned and walked away. Following him, Dee-Ann was proud his eyes did not waste water. The slave Naga led him along a wide lamp lit passageway to the back of the villa. Then down a long, steep flight of twisty stairs; to more lamp lit passages and many rooms. Dee-Ann was astonished. Rooms beneath the ground! He had never heard of such a thing! He would ask Maeghara what that meant when he saw her at newsun. There was point asking the slave Naga. He was a slave. What would he know?</p><p> </p><p>The slave Naga took him to a bath chamber, where the water flowed from bronze fish hanging from the wall. Amazing! While the bath filled, the slave Naga undid Dee-Ann’s godbraids. Then he pointed to a cupboard against the wall.</p><p> </p><p>“There is soap and a sponge. I will fetch you a clean robe.” He said.</p><p> </p><p>Not afraid this time, Dee-Ann stripped off his filthy clothes and slid into the bath. He washed his body. He washed his hair, all crinkly from the godbraids. The soap foam stung his eyes but he didn’t care. He was <em>clean</em>. He was clean! He would never be dirty again! He lived in Maeghara’s villa! It was beautiful. And so was he.</p><p> </p><p>The slave Naga returned with towels and a brush and a dark blue robe. Dee-Ann climbed out of the bath, water streaming down his lovely clean skin and from his wet hair. After the slave Naga had dried him, he pulled on the robe and let the slave drag the brush through his hair over and over until it was smooth and barely damp.</p><p> </p><p>The slave Naga led him to a lamp lit kitchen, where he sat at a table with more slaves; who stared at him and would have spoken had the slave Naga not frowned them to silence. Not caring he was stared at, Dee-Ann at hot meat and drank cool sadsa. When his belly was full, he followed the slave Naga out of the kitchen past other rooms and two more staring slaves; until their reached a small chamber with a bed in it but no windows.</p><p> </p><p>“Sleep.” Said the slave Naga, holding the door wide so light from the passageway beyond spilled inside. “I will fetch you one finger after newsun. There is a pishpot under the bed if you need it.”</p><p> </p><p>As the chamber door closed, Dee-Ann climbed under the blankets. His head touched the soft pillows; his body sighed and within a heartbeat he was sucked from the waking world and into sleep; where for <em>once</em> the village, and the Woman and the dream dogs did not find him.</p><p> </p><p>*    *    *</p><p> </p><p>Dee-Ann woke before the slave Naga came for him. Someone had put a lit lamp by the bed. By its light, he used the pishpot. A little while later the slave Naga arrived with a tunic, shows and leggings for him to wear. Dee-Ann dressed and walked with him to the kitchen where the slave Ashar was waiting.</p><p> </p><p>“Where is Maeghara?” he asked. “Maeghara and Dee-Ann eat breakfast together.”</p><p> </p><p>The eight slaves eating at the table made little noises of surprise and stared at him with stupid expressions. Naga stared, and the big Kitchen slave in charge of cooking stopped stirring a cooking pit hung above the fire coals. He wiped his arm across his face and looked at Dee-Ann as if he was demon-struck. It seemed the hole room held its breath.</p><p> </p><p>The slave Ashar smiled. “Oh child. The Mistress has told me you are from the Savage East. Forget that place now. Forget the caravan upon the road. This is Et-Banotaj. We are civilized here. We are civilized in this house, where the Mistress lightest breath is law. It is her want that you attend me. Do I go to her now and say you will not?”</p><p> </p><p>‘An arrogant man, this slave Ashar’ Dee-Ann thought. He would speak to Maeghara about him when next they sat together. Until then he could play this stupid game. He shook his head. “No Ashar. Dee-Ann attend you.”</p><p> </p><p>The slave Ashar smiled again. His eyes were watchful. “Good! Eat now. Naga will show the places in this house where you may put your feet. Put your feet only in these places. Not in the places he does not show you. Then you will be properly godbraided. Afterwards I will come for you. The Mistress has tasked me with tasks for you.”</p><p> </p><p>Dee-Ann looked at him. “All of this is Maeghara’s want?” he asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Every word I speak reflects the Mistress want.” Said the slave Ashar. “Of that you can be certain.”</p><p> </p><p>“I am certain of Maeghara.” Dee-Ann told him soliciting more shocked noises from the watching slaves. He looked at them sideways feeling contempt. Goat people. Bleating like goats. Huddling like goats.</p><p> </p><p>‘They would make me small. The slaves in this house. I am not small. I wear no slave braid. I named myself. I call her Maeghara. She is not my Mistress. Maeghara is my friend!’ Dee-Ann thought to himself as the slave Ashar departed. He ate corn mush. He frightened the stupid goat slaves with his eyes. The slave Naga took him back to the chamber beneath the stairs. Four more slaves joined them. They brought a tall stool, six burning lamps, combs, brushes and a wooden box filled with beads and amulets and tiny silver godbells. Dee-Ann sat on the stool, and the slaves stood around him godbraiding his hair. When they were finished it was after Highsun. He slid off the tall stool and shook his head.</p><p> </p><p>The godbraids reached just past his shoulders, and past his shoulder blades where they were longest. The beads and amulets rattled and clatted. The tiny silver godbells sang. He would make a pretty noise wherever he walked. People would hear him before they saw him. They would ask themselves:</p><p> </p><p>“Who is this boy-child with shining silver godbells in his godbraided hair?”</p><p> </p><p>And he would tell them.</p><p> </p><p>“I am Dee-Ann, precious and beautiful.”</p><p> </p><p>After the highsun meal, the slave Ashar said to him. “Come.”</p><p> </p><p>Dee-Ann bristled. This slave did not own him. He was not his dog to be called and commanded. He stayed sitting at the table.</p><p> </p><p>“Where do we go?” he asked.</p><p> </p><p>“To the Merchant’s District. To the Bazaar.” The slave Ashar said.</p><p> </p><p>“What do we buy there?” Dee-Ann asked.</p><p> </p><p>“You will see. Come.” The slave repeated.</p><p> </p><p>It was Maeghara’s want that he play Ashar’s stupid game, so he followed him up the stairs with a sigh; and along the passageways to the villa’s front doors. Within one closed room he heard sharp raised voices. He felt his heart leap!</p><p> </p><p>“That is Maeghara!” he said and stopped. “I will see her!”</p><p> </p><p>Ashar slowed turning. “Not before she sends for you. The mistress meets important women this day. She has no time for bratty children! Come!”</p><p> </p><p>Dee-Ann folded his arms. “I am not a bratty child. I am Dee-Ann.”</p><p> </p><p>The slave Ashar halted and pointed his finger. “I am Chief Slave of this House! I can beat you if you do not obey!”</p><p> </p><p>Dee-Ann speared him with a look. “No Ashar. You cannot touch me.”</p><p> </p><p>Ashar’s hands became fists. Ugly feelings struggled in his eyes. Dee-Ann knew he wanted to unfold his fists and slap his beautiful face. But he did not dare. He said he could beat him, but Dee-Ann knew he could not. If Derubeis could not beat him, or make Maeghara beat him; no <em>slave</em> born in the world could raise a hand to him.</p><p> </p><p>“Tcha!” said the slave Ashar and walked away. “You waste my time! You will see Maeghara when we return. She has said so!”</p><p> </p><p>Dee-Ann smiled and followed him.</p><p> </p><p>*    *    *</p><p> </p><p>The slave Ashar did not speak to him on the long walk from Maeghara’s villa to the Merchant District. Dee-Ann didn’t care. Being in the fresh air was better than sitting below the villa’s stairs. He could see the city in the sunshine now. He would have so much to tell Maeghara when he saw her again!</p><p> </p><p>There was a special place for people to walk, so the many slave carried litters in the street were not slowed down. Some of them traveled quite swiftly, with their muscular slaves running in a flat footed shuffle. The litters were beautiful, carved from exotic polished wood; inlaid with bronze. Some were curtained in heavy silks, others were open so the world might admire the Mistresses and Masters they bore wearing rich fabrics and jeweled amulets bright as songbirds in rainbow colors.</p><p> </p><p>At the end of some streets stood a Godpost with a Godbowl at its base. Dee-Ann saw a Godspeaker dressed in brown linen and snakeskin empty the offerings from one of the Godbowls into a leather satchel slung over her shoulder. She was very young, her brow bound with a tiny scorpion shell. The slave Ashar bound his head when they passed her, so did Dee-Ann; after Ashar poked him with his elbow.</p><p> </p><p>There were images of the hooded Godsnake wherever he looked. Not just on the Godposts at the end of the streets. It was painted on the walls enclosing some of the houses, or sat as a bronze statue on top. It was picked out in green and blue and red stones where they walked and in the middle of the road. The Godsnake of Et-Novakar was <em>everywhere</em>. And Dee-Ann began to wonder about this ruling city. If Et-Banotaj was like <em>this</em>….what wonders must the God’s own city not hold?</p><p> </p><p>His head was too small to imagine such a place.</p><p> </p><p>Twisting his neck, he looked up to Et-Banotaj’s pinnacle rising up from the center of the city. In the bright sunshine he could see a wide road, winding round and round the barracks and the Palace to the Godhouse at its peak. If he squinted he could see many figures on that road, traveling up and traveling down. The Scorpion on top of the Godhouse’s Godpost blazed black and crimson in the light. The God’s great Eye watching them all.</p><p> </p><p>The roads and walkways became steadily busier the closer he and the slave Ashar came to the Merchant’s District. Now there were open slave drawn carriages, with bells and amulets seating one or two people and rolling swiftly on polished wooden wheels. Dee-Ann stared. One day <em>he</em> would ride in a carriage like that. Proudly, with Maeghara so that all Et-Banotaj would know he was precious.</p><p> </p><p>He thought of the Woman in that Savage East village, and was sorry she would never know that selling him for ten silver pieces was the <em>only</em> good thing she had ever done.</p><p> </p><p>He and the slave Ashar reached the Bazaar at last. And <em>enormous</em> covered place filled end to end and side to side with stalls and booths and trade sellers. They were hawking sweet jellies and spiced nuts, and pastries dripping with <em>honey</em>! The air was almost too thick to breathe. So many smells! Sweet and sour and sharp and soft! They filled his lungs and made him gasp. There were more people beneath this one high roof – shouting and laughing and singing and arguing – than lived in that entire village in the East. Ashar took him by the arm and pulled him close.</p><p> </p><p>“Stay with me!” he balled into Dee-Ann’s ear. A few steps away a man and two women played drums and symbols and a wailing wooden recorder. It was hard to hear the slave Ashar above their noise. “My shadow brat! Or Maeghara will be displeased.”</p><p> </p><p>Dee-Ann pulled a face. This Ashar used Maeghara’s name the way the Woman had used her goatstick. What a stupid slave. Maeghara would never hurt him. But Dee-Ann would be his shadow just the same. It would be easy to get lost in this shouting, stinking, crowded and wonderful bazaar. Ashar took him to a booth filled with racks and racks of clothing. Two fat men pounced like sand cats on rock mice. Dee-Ann was pulled behind a saggy curtain and poked and prodded – made to undress – then try on tunic after tunic. Pantaloons. Robes. So many clothes till he wanted to scream. The only reason he did not scratch out their eyes was because they had a mirror that showed all his body. So he let the stupid fat men smother him in clothes.</p><p> </p><p>He only snarled when they tried to take off the snake eye amulet Maeghara had given him. Then they squealed and groveled and Ashar demanded from the other side of the curtain to know what was going on. The men rushed to tell the slave that all was in order. Dee-Ann said nothing.</p><p> </p><p>He looked at his reflection, and was amazed. He looked at himself. His face was still beautiful as it had been when the man Bisla had first showed it to him. But it looked different now. There was more fullness in his cheeks and the eyes no longer looked scared. His arms were long. His legs were long. All his heavy godbraids sat on his long neck. In the village there had been dry skin lying thinly over skinny hips and ribs and jutting shoulders. Now…he was not fat. But there was flesh on his bones. He’d felt his body changing as he’d traveled the road with Maeghara. But now he could see it. Smooth and sleek. His shape so amazing to the eye. His skin, not dull and brown; but rich and pale like sadsa flowing in the booth’s mellow lamplight. Last of all he studied his eyes. They were open, fearless, proud; defiant. Words he’d learned from Derubeis that she said described him and should be beaten out of him. Maeghara had paid no attention to stupid Derubeis. For himself, Dee-Ann loved those words. He loved himself shining in the mirror.</p><p> </p><p>“I am proud. I am defiant. I am Dee-Ann. Precious and beautiful. All of me is beautiful. The God sees me. I am seen by the God.”</p><p> </p><p>He traced his fingers through the tufts of hair that were sprouting from under his arms and over the skin near his elbows. The same soft hair that had begun to appear on his legs and even his toes. There was a slightly darker shadow of hair above his cock. He traced his fingers through the soft hair, then took his cock in hand and turned it this way and that. His cock had gotten larger too, his stones had dropped further from his body. He hadn’t told anyone. But his cock had taken on a habit of standing up straight from his body like a scorpion tail ready to sting. Always in the mornings, but sometimes at the oddest times during the day as well.</p><p> </p><p>*     *     *</p><p> </p><p>After the longest time, the fat men finished drowning him in clothes. They left him alone to dress himself and took armfuls of the shoes and robes and tunics and pants out to the front of their booth. When he joined them they ignored him. They were busy squabbling with the slave Ashar about coin. He ignored Dee-Ann too. He cared more for Maeghara’s money than for him.</p><p> </p><p>Bored, Dee-Ann wandered a small way from Ashar and the men; wading his way through the jostling crowd. His interest was caught by a booth full of amulets. He wandered closer. The amulet seller was busy with a customer. Dee-Ann stood to one side and looked at the merchandise.</p><p> </p><p> Laid out on wooden tables and dangling from ropes stretched above his head. Some of the amulets were as large as a fist. Others were smaller than his smallest fingernail. Some were carved out of bone, or fashioned from lizard skulls and snake skulls; and even fleshless human fingers. The bones and skulls were banded in bronze, in silver, in <em>gold</em>. There were tiny stone snake fangs as blue as they sky. Larger snake fangs in rocks striped green and crimson. Snake eyes of pale green crystal, of richest yellow and hot fire flame. Tiny clenched fists carved out of ivory, and ivory feet with a snake carved into their sole, to guard against fang strike.</p><p> </p><p>There were lots and lots and lots of scorpions, in every kind of stone and crystal. Some were large as a woman’s spanned hand. Others as small as a baby’s fist.</p><p> </p><p>One in particular caught his eyes. It snared his attention like a fly drawn to honey. It had not been laid out among the others. It was on a low shelf towards the back of the booth, half hidden in shadow and stood behind much larger Scorpions in front of it. He picked it up to look more closely. It was the size of a living scorpion. Shiny black, with deep flames of scarlet and gold that caught the bazaar’s torchlight like breathing.</p><p> </p><p>It felt warm in his palm.</p><p> </p><p>Almost alive.</p><p> </p><p>He almost expected to feel its feet move against his skin.</p><p> </p><p>“What is this? What is <em>this</em>?” the amulet seller demanded. Her other customer had gone away. They were alone in the booth. “Who’s child are you?”</p><p> </p><p>Reluctantly, Dee-Ann put down the carved black scorpion. “I belong to Trader Maeghara.”</p><p> </p><p>The amulet seller was a wrinkled woman, so old her skin was fading to a light and ugly brown. All her graying godbraids were limp. Her eyes were filmed over with whitish scum. She was losing most of her teeth.</p><p> </p><p>“Trader Maeghara?” the old woman said. “Returned from the road? The God sees me. Maeghara is Et-Banotaj’s daughter. Beloved of the God. What is your name? And where are you from?”</p><p> </p><p>“I am Dee-Ann from the savage East.” He said evenly.</p><p> </p><p>“Aaaaaaiiiiiiieeeeeeee!!!!!!!” the old woman hitched up her shawl. It was sewn with so many amulets that it kept trying to slide off her bony shoulders and rattle to the booth’s frayed carpeted floor. “The savage East. That is why the child is fearless. That is why it stands before me with its head held high.”</p><p> </p><p>She picked up the amulet. Caressed it. “Does Dee-Ann like my scorpion? I made it. You know I made all these amulets? The God speaks to me in the night. In the wind. In the water. I make these amulets, and the God sees me in its Eye.”</p><p> </p><p>Dee-Ann looked again at the beautiful scorpion. “I like it.” He said with a nod.</p><p> </p><p>“Then you may <em>have</em> it.” Said the old woman. “A gift for Dee-Ann from the Savage East.”</p><p> </p><p>She leaned forward. “But keep it a secret child.” She whispered. “This amulet is special. I made it many years ago. And I have never made another like it. The God thundered in my heart as it guided my blade. It thunders now. It wants you to have this.”</p><p> </p><p>Dee-Ann nodded. If he told Ashar, he would take this gift away and keep it for himself. “I will keep it a secret.”</p><p> </p><p>He reached for the Scorpion, and his hand touched the skin of the old amulet seller. The woman gasped. She dropped the scorpion on the table, not caring if it chipped or smashed; and seized him in a grasp that seemed <em>too</em> strong for such brittle and clawed old hands.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Savage Dee-Ann!!!</em>” the old woman gasped. Her scummy eyes lost their focus and rolled upwards in her head like a Godspeaker’s in the middle of Sacred Ritual. “<em>The God sees you! It burns you in its Eye! Great lord! Father of the God’s design! You drag death and despair behind you like chains! Rivers of blood! Rivers of Greatness! Wastelands of corpses!</em>”</p><p> </p><p>As Dee-Ann wrenched free, Ashar appeared.</p><p> </p><p>“Dee-Ann! I told you to stay with me! Maeghara will beat you when I tell her of your wickedness!”</p><p> </p><p>He was so shaken by the old woman’s ranting he said nothing. “I’m sorry Ashar.”</p><p> </p><p>Ashar’s anger melted. “Oh very well. But you must come. It is wicked to dawdle.”</p><p> </p><p>“My new clothes?” Dee-Ann asked.</p><p> </p><p>“They are sent to the villa. Now come.” Ashar said.</p><p> </p><p>The amulet seller was muttering and moaning, rocking in her seat. “<em>Burning! Bloo-o-od! I see! The God thunders!</em>”</p><p> </p><p>Stupid old woman. She was demon struck. And ripe for stoning. Dee-Ann snatched up the scorpion amulet and thrust it into his pocket; then ran after Ashar before the bazaar’s milling crowd swallowed him entirely.</p><p> </p><p>*     *     *</p><p> </p><p>After leaving the Bazaar, Ashar led him to the Schooling District. He explained that Maeghara wished for Dee-Ann to have a tutor to teach him reading and writing and dancing. Dee-Ann sighed, explaining to the slave Ashar that there would be no need. Maeghara was his teacher. Ashar chutted and paraded him from schooling house to schooling house, speaking to many different tutors until he found one he deemed appropriate. At long last, they returned to the villa.</p><p> </p><p>Dee-Ann fairly raced through the doors to meet Maeghara! Ashar had told him he would see her once they had finished their business. </p><p> </p><p>She was reclining on a divan in a very luxurious room. But Dee-Ann could not focus on any of its details. He wanted only to see Maeghara. Derubeis was there too, playing with some kind of animal. It was small with overlong arms and a curly tail, and it was covered in a coat of brown and white fur and shrieked and made a terrible racket as Derubeis tried to feed it sugared dates. The animal looked at Dee-Ann before hiding its face in its over large hands. Ridiculously, the animal was wearing a jacket that matched the color of Derubeis robe. </p><p> </p><p>"Aaaaaiiiiieeeee!!!! See how he scares my little Hooli!" Derubeis said. Dee-Ann scowled and pointed at the animal.</p><p> </p><p>"You say many times Dee-Ann is like Hooli. I am nothing like that animal!" he said. </p><p> </p><p>"You are right! My Hooli is worth a thousand of you you brat!" </p><p> </p><p>"I am sorry Mistress! I could not stop her!" Ashar panted into the room.</p><p> </p><p>"It is no matter. See about dinner. Dee-Ann will be along shortly. Close the door. I would have a few private words with her." Maeghara said.</p><p> </p><p>"See this wild thing you have let loose upon our house!" Derubeis moaned. "You should let Ashar beat it Mega! Let it learn its place!"</p><p> </p><p>Maeghara said nothing, raising her hand to still stupid Derubeis. She motioned for Dee-Ann to turn so he did. </p><p> </p><p>"Your Godbraids are beautiful. They honor the God. I am pleased." she said, motioning for him to sit. Dee-Ann walked to the nearest couch and sat with his back very straight. His godbells sang as he moved. "How did you find the city?"</p><p> </p><p>"It is very beautiful." he said. "Will Maeghara show Dee-Ann all of it soon?" he asked.</p><p> </p><p>"Not soon." Maeghara said. "And not me."</p><p> </p><p>He didn't understand. Maeghara read his mind like always. "We have been on the road for many Godmoons Dee-Ann. We have much business that needs tending. We are in the city now. We must live city lives. My time is now for Trader Business. That is <em>my</em> world. You must go beneath the stairs and mind Ashar and Naga and your new Tutor. You must not come unless you are called. Do you understand?"</p><p> </p><p>Dee-Ann nodded. He didn't really. All he heard was that Maeghara didn't have time for him. His disappointment was like a snake fang in his heart. "Yes Maeghara."</p><p> </p><p>"This is my word Dee-Ann. Ashar will give me daily reports if you do not listen. And I will be angry. If I hear good reports I will be happy. It pleases me that Dee-Ann should learn reading and writing and to dance. Do you wish to please me?"</p><p> </p><p>"Yes Maeghara!" he said breathlessly. Pleasing Maeghara was all. </p><p> </p><p>"Good. As I have said Dee-Ann. We are in the city now. We must forget the road." Maeghara said. "The things you saw. The warriors and the war parties and the words you heard Derubeis and I speak with one another. Have you sharpened your tongue on them below the stairs and spoken of these things with the other slaves?"</p><p> </p><p>Dee-Ann frowned. HE didn't know why, but he had a distinct sense that this was a dangerous question. He shook his head honestly.</p><p> </p><p>"No Maeghara. Dee-Ann does not speak to slaves." he said.</p><p> </p><p>"That is good! You have pleased me. Yu must forget everything you saw and heard. It is the God's Business. Now go." Maeghara said with a smile.</p><p> </p><p>*     *     *</p><p> </p><p>Dee-Ann left the room, but hovered by the door; aching to know what they discussed and why this had become a day of so many secret things.</p><p> </p><p>"Was I not right Rubi?" Maeghara asked and Dee-Ann could hear the smile in her voice.</p><p> </p><p>"Half right perhaps. And we shall have to see about the rest." Derubeis answered. "But Mega? Now a tutor as well, and so many clothes. The cost of this investment of yours continues to build. Investments can go sour if they are not completed in their time."</p><p> </p><p>"And I say the time is not yet upon us. Everything I do I do to increase the value of our investment. Have I not told you time and again since we left the East that the God guided me to that Village. And look...in such a short time how he has flowered? Already Dee-Ann makes any woman's head turn twice. Think with more learning and proper feeding. His true blooming will be magnificent. And it is yet to come."</p><p> </p><p>So many words he did not understand. But from the way Maeghara spoke, Dee-Ann could only think that these words described him. And like beautiful, flowering and blossoming and magnificent must be good things.</p><p> </p><p>"But to make of him a consort for a Warlord Mega? A savage beast from the East? Aaaiiiieeeeeee!! I think you are demon struck to even think such a thing. You tempt the God to smiting." Derubeis said.</p><p> </p><p>"I agree with you." Maeghara said. "To make of Dee-Ann a concubine for a Warlord <strong>would</strong> be a demon's folly. I mean to make of him a consort.....for a <em>Queen</em>."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I’m going to halt here, cause this chapter is getting long. This is going to be the last Dean Chapter before the time jump! I know Dee-Ann is coming across like a bit of a narcissist. I promise this isn’t what he’s gonna be like the entire fic. Believe me. There a lot of changes coming. And of course, Dee-Ann and Castiel will meet!!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Those who do not learn from the past...</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Castiel learns a touch more about his history than he ever wantrd to know. And an internal suspicion threatens to consume him.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was well after lowsun when Castiel finally managed to sneak back into his rooms. He was exhausted. After agreeing to be more involved in his nameday celebration, he’d been thoroughly overrun with details and chores and arrangements that made him want to scream. But Gabriel had seemed so excited by his interest that it almost made it worth it. Not to mention that Gabriel had – as he’d expected – proven himself to be a veritable treasure trove of information. In the last ten days, Castiel had learned more about the inner workings of Et-Novakar society than in the last ten years of schooling.</p><p>He smiled a touch cruelly. It was almost too easy, guiding the conversation in the directions he wanted it to go to eek out whatever nuggets of gossip or knowledge Castiel needed. A carefully worded question or comment – all under the auspice of either ignorance or surprise on Castiel’s part – had Gabriel offering up nuggets of gold. The only problem was having to feign interest in the rest of it in order to collect it.</p><p>An endless afternoon spent selecting a flavor for his cake; and selecting a few delicacies from the Provinces had yielded which of the Noble Houses controlled Et-Novakar’s supply of grain. Not to mention which districts, fiefdoms and provinces were the most strategically important in terms of trade routes and foreign relations. Three full days had been lost to trying on the various costumes and ceremonial attire Castiel would have to wear and determining what alterations needed to be made. Castiel had been sure at the end of it his skin turn a ruddy brown color and he’d go bald amidst all the dyes and fabrics and beads and feathers and jewels. But he’d managed to glean which cities were the most important Ports for shipping. Which areas held the most fertile soil and where the most important mines were.</p><p>Any and all information that seemed as if it might be valuable was meticulously added to the maps Tran had managed to secure for them. These had been stretched over frames and carefully hung in Castiel’s study. A pattern was sure to emerge once they had enough information. Castiel was sure of it. For the moment however, it seemed like a bit of controlled chaos. Tran had proven himself instrumental in helping Castiel make sense of things, as well as laying his hands on manifests and documents and ledgers that Castiel would never have managed on his own. A prince sticking his nose into the affairs of women was to attract the wrong kind of attention. But Castiel had seen for himself just how little attention people paid to a Body Servant moving about the Palace.</p><p>He sighed. He had sent yet another letter requesting an audience with the Queen. It had been over a week since she’d returned from her Hunting. Over a week since the Reverend Mother had threatened his life and that Voice. Over a week for Kufu – the untrustworthy snake – to pour poison into her ear. He hadn’t wanted to believe what they’d said about The Queen cuckolding his Father.</p><p>But a barely veiled question to Gabriel during a fitting had solicited a spate of laughter.</p><p>*      *     *</p><p>“Light see me Cassie. Where have you been hiding? That’s the worst kept secret in all of Et-Novakar.” He’d laughed.</p><p>“And Father knew about this?” Castiel asked outraged.</p><p>“I don’t see how he couldn’t have.” Gabriel said squinting to thread a beading needle. “Our mother is many things, but discreet in her….affections….hardly numbers among them.”</p><p>Castiel stood as if turned to stone. Gabriel didn’t know it. But between one moment and the next something precious and treasured had shattered inside his heart. He had grown up listening to poems and songs about the love born between his parents. He’d spent countless hours staring at the paintings depicting them walking together. Had fallen asleep listening to his Father tell him about the day they married.</p><p>As boys, he and Gabriel had promised each other endlessly that one day they too would find someone to love the way their parents did. And even though he would be hard pressed to admit it out loud, Castiel still sometimes – when the wind was warm and the moon was full – he dreamed of a love that even time would lie down and be still for.</p><p>Hearing that it was a fairytale meant too many sad things to mourn all at once.</p><p>“Have you ever heard of Et-Richese? You might not have, it was all years before you were born…”</p><p>“I think I have. Isn’t that what Et-Haravelle used to be called? There was a skirmish of some sort. A noble house that went renegade and made an attempt on the Queen’s life?” Castiel asked.</p><p>“Renegade indeed. It was a full scale Rebellion. The Richese Warlord…I forget her name. She called her shields.” Gabriel said gathering fabric at Castiel’s hip before letting it drop a moment later. He flicked his finger at the slave pinning Castiel’s hem and waved her away. The slave bowed low and scurried off, leaving them alone.</p><p>“But why?” Castiel asked.</p><p>“She’d just succeeded her mother to the throne five years prior, and was God promised to a beautiful young lord from Et-Bajadek. Youngest son of some camel trader or Merchant, I can’t remember.” Gabriel said, speaking in his preferred lowered voice reserved for when he was relating the juiciest tidbits of gossip. “Anyway. Our mother – herself only in her thirties – fucked the young lordling the night of the promising.”</p><p>“Blasphemy. Such a thing spits in the Eye of the God.” Castiel said, but Gabriel wasn’t finished.</p><p>“The Warlord called it rape when she found out over a year later, and demanded justice. She was convinced the lordling was spoiled goods since our mother had “stolen” his maiden seed and that was why she’d failed to conceive any daughters on him.” He continued. “Hold this.” He said handing Castiel a stretch of sash to hold tight while Gabriel pinned on an appliqué.</p><p>“Do you think it was rape?” Castiel asked horrified as he adjusted his stance. His left leg was falling asleep.</p><p>“If it was he certainly enjoyed it. As the story goes, the Warlord only found out about the entire sordid affair after the Bajadek lordling professed his undying love for our mother and flung himself to this death over the battlements.” Gabriel said bending to pick up some sheers and snip off a thread that was sticking out.</p><p>“What happened then, to the Warlord?” Castiel asked.</p><p>“The rest is history. She tried to assassinate our Mother, who survived and promptly rode out with the Honor Guard and a full legion of Et-Novakari warriors. The rebellion was crushed in the end. But the Warlord got close to exacting her revenge. Mother still bears the scar after all.” Gabriel said snapping open a new box of beads; tapping his neck as he spoke.</p><p>“She was the one who nearly killed the Queen?” Castiel said more than asked.</p><p>“And only failed because El-Ahn stopped her.” Gabriel said referring to Joh’s mother; who’d lost her sword arm in the process.</p><p>“The Warlord’s House and all those who had dared to follow her; was weeded out root and stem and sacrificed to the God. Our mother raised house Haravelle to the status of Warlord and….things continued as they always have.” Gabriel explained. His voice was flat, disinterested; as if they were discussing the wetness of water or the heat of a candle flame.</p><p>“But Gabriel, a God Promise is sacred. How could our…the Queen do such a thing? And why didn’t the Light Burn her in its Vengeful Eye?” Castiel asked. Gabriel smiled at him as if he’d said something utterly adorable.</p><p>“I admire your childish innocence pet.” Gabriel said with s sincerity Castiel didn’t usually associate with him. “We are royal. Anointed by the God to rule over everything the Light touches. In our veins flows the blood of the Angel.” He continued, pointing at the Crest worked into the mural decorating the small fitting room they were in.</p><p>“But we are human as well. We are not immune to weakness. Our mother may be a Queen, but she is a woman first.” He said stringing the needle with blue beads. “There’s a Beast that lives in every woman. A hunger. And nothing stirs up that hunger more than beautiful he-flesh. Put a sword in a woman’s hand and it becomes a ravenous best.”</p><p>“And I suppose we all know where the mouth of the beast is situated.” Castiel said smirking. Gabriel looked scandalized for a moment before smacking Castiel playfully on the thigh.</p><p>“Little brother!” Gabriel said smiling devilishly. “That was excellent! Those diaries are doing you a world of good. I think when you’ve finished with them I might like to peek under Anne whoosie whatsie’s skirts.”</p><p>“Anne Bonnie. And I hardly think you need any help.” Castiel said. Their humor lingered a moment, before his expression turned serious again.</p><p>“Brother.” He began. “Why didn’t the God punish the Queen? It was a godless thing she did with that Lordling. That Warlord was only acting as any woman would have in her place. And her entire bloodline was destroyed for it. Not to mention the Lordling who died by his own hand. And betrayed our Father. And you tell me our Mother showed no remorse? Paid no price?”</p><p>A shadow fell over Gabriel’s face. There then gone. “She did was she always does.” Gabriel said with a small shrug. “She made sacrifice and offering until the godbowls groaned under the weight of her tribute. Then she crucified herself to the stone wheel for two days and let Kufu paint his jealousy on her back with the lash.”</p><p>“And our Father just forgave her?” Castiel asked.</p><p>“I would imagine that over the course of their marriage our Father became quite adept at closing his eyes the way only a man can.” Gabriel said. “But no. This time he didn’t as a matter of fact. You see our Mother had very recently given birth. The timeline was….suspect…to say the least.”</p><p>“Who?” Castiel asked, his eyes stretched wide and his voice barely above a whisper.</p><p>“Peliel.” Gabriel said.</p><p>Castiel stood with his mouth agape. Of all his siblings, his brother Peliel numbered among the ones Castiel knew the least. Not so strange considering the massive gaps in age within such a prolific family. The Queen – like her foremothers – had started spawning heirs almost as soon as she’d married. Many daughters would ensure her bloodline. But even a male child was not without its uses. A woman is never more physically powerful than while she is pregnant. A fact the Queen had never failed to exploit. She’d been pregnant a grand total of sixteen times – each corresponding with some war campaign or other – and given birth to fourteen babes. Two had been stillbirths. Two more daughters had lived to adulthood, but died in battle.</p><p>More than twenty years his senior, Peliel had retired from public life before he’d even come of age and instead chosen the life of a Monk. It has always seemed a strange choice to him, but if there was a question as to his paternity, perhaps it wise. Castiel had never even met him. He was just a portrait in the gallery.</p><p>“Nothing was ever confirmed of course. How could it? But there were a great many people who watched little Peliel develop with malicious interest.” Gabriel explained.</p><p>“And Father?” Castiel asked.</p><p>“He had put together a retinue of over a hundred slaves, Body Servants and some of Mother’s Honor Guard. And promptly set off on a tour of the Provinces. He wasn’t even here when Peliel was born.” He said waggling his eyebrows suggestively.</p><p>“The official story…” he continued, though from the way he said it Castiel could tell just how official he believed it to be. “…was that he was visiting Godhouses all across Mijak to bless the Godstones and spread the Light.”</p><p>Castiel nodded. It was plausible enough. Unlike many of the men who’d married women of his mother’s Blood; Castiel’s father had taken his position as Sun King – as the peasants called him – very seriously. A pious man, he’d devoted much of his time to bringing the Light to the dark corners of the world.</p><p>“But the version I heard, he traveled in an almost straight line to his ancestral home of Et-Nogolor and stayed there for almost five years.” Gabriel explained as if he were delivering a monologue. “Our mother practically had to bodily drag him back to the Capital with promises and sweet words of love. As I heard it she showered him with enough jewels and baubles and love gifts to fill an entire caravan.”</p><p>“Gabriel you gossip like a common Launderer.” Castiel scolded him.</p><p>“It’s true! Haven’t you ever wondered why suddenly there was a seven year gap between Peliel and Nerissa?” Gabriel asked smartly. “Honestly Cassie. Sometimes I think you have all the cunning of a dead lizard.”</p><p>Castiel stuck out his tongue. “Peliel became a monk didn’t he?”</p><p>“Hmmm. It’s all very dreary if you ask me. He joined the Order of the Brothers of the Scorpion or the Scorpion Brothers or something along those lines…” Gabriel began.</p><p>“The Brothers of Venom?” Castiel asked. He’d heard of them. They were rumored to let themselves be stung daily to receive visions from the God; in the process becoming venomous themselves.</p><p>“They shave their heads and dress in dreary robes.” Gabriel said widening his eyes and screwing up his mouth to show just what he thought of that lifestyle. “Rumor has it they live in almost total darkness. But one thing is certain. They breed some of the largest and deadliest Scorpions in the entire world. Half the High Godspeakers in Mijak wear Scorpion shells bred by them.”</p><p>“Are you quite done?” Castiel asked getting irritated with standing like a statue.</p><p>“Oh stop your moaning. Beauty and agony are synonymous.” Gabriel said, punctuating his point by stabbing Castiel with his needle.</p><p>*     *     *</p><p>Castiel shook himself from his reverie, pouring himself a glass of wine and walking out onto the balcony to look at the city at night. His thoughts drifted to his Mother. It seemed the more he learned of her, the more of a mystery she became. She’d never been much of a mother to him. And when he was younger it had pained him. But it had been a comfort somehow to imagine that at least - when she was younger – there had been a time when she was a good wife to his Father.</p><p>He had so many questions for her.</p><p>But all of his letters had gone unanswered. He knew she was busy. That there were many important affairs of Queen business to attend to. The Southern Delegation would be leaving soon. And even they didn’t, there would be more visitors from other parts of the Kingdom soon as well.</p><p>He tried to convince himself that was why she hadn’t bothered to answer. Not because she wasn’t interested. Not because she didn’t care.</p><p>He allowed himself exactly five breaths of self pity, before straightening up and sipping deeply of the wine.</p><p>His eyes sought out the moon but it was hidden behind clouds. His mind wandered to the idea of marriage. It was strange to think that somewhere in the world, right now; there was a woman imagining her husband. And that that meant him.</p><p>Strange. And absolutely terrifying.</p><p>He heard activity in the room behind him. Slaves coming to light the fires. Tran would be along soon to help him bathe. Unbidden, his mind flashed back to the other night when Tran had shared his bed. Tran’s arms around him. The feeling of his hard cock against Castiel’s thighs while Tran slept unknowing.</p><p>It hadn’t bothered Castiel. Just like it hadn’t bothered him when Tran had touched him in the bath.</p><p>It didn’t bother him. And that, was the most terrifying thing of all.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So I know this might feel like a filler Chapter. It's not I assure you. But I'm not gonna have a lot of timr devoted to the past as we move forward so I thought I'd weasel it in here. </p><p>Also, Cas staring at the moon doubting his own sexuality is directly from my life.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Dark tides</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A revelation sends Castiel's world into turmoil.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello all! I'm so sorry for not posting anything new in forever. My laptop crapped out on me and fuck Covid-19. Anyway, expect part two of this very soon.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Castiel had barely finished his morning meal when the messenger arrived. She couldn't have been more than  thirteen, though she looked quite official dressed in full livery and carrying her silver salver bearing the message. It had been sealed in a clay pot worked with the Queen's personal signet. Castiel raised his eyebrows, taking the pot and dismissing the messenger with a quick blessing. Whatever answer he had been expecting to his continued efforts to reach his mother, Castiel had hardly been expecting an official summons.</p><p>Walking back into his rooms, he placed it gingerly on the table next to his tray. Dropping it before he'd had a chance to unseal it would be less than ideal. These kinds of official communications were sealed with God's Breath. If it smashed, it would destroy the message inside, and almost certainly kill the fool who'd tried to look on what was not meant for their eyes. Which is why they were usually reserved for important or state information. Digging into his night dress, he removed the bright blue jewel from around his neck. Holding it over the seal, he watched it glow green for a moment, before with a hiss of air almost like a  child's sigh; the glow evaporated. Instantly, the sense of potency and danger that had lingered around the thing a moment before lifted. Tucking the stone back into his night dress, he leaned forward to examine it more closely.</p><p>It was quite lovely in its own austere way. It was bright blue, a squat little pot on two legs with a small metal knocker fitted to the lid, which had been sealed shut with a thick strip of wax baked hard along with the rest of the pot. With a small sigh, he lifted the knocker and rapped it sharply on The Queen's seal, shattering the little pot to pieces.</p><p>The scroll rolled up inside was not written in the Queen's own hand. Rather it had been dictated to an artisan who was learned in calligraphy. Like many women of the Bloodline, the Queen could read well enough, but the brunt of her schooling had been in war. Tactics, weapons, snake dancing and bowmanship. Such ornamental trivialities as writing, music and poetry were considered more suitable for men.</p><p>The message was relatively straightforward, if somewhat unexpected. The Queen wished him to present himself for a portait later.</p><p>He groaned. Suddenly the early hour of the messenger made sense. If he was to be ready before highsun......</p><p>Castiel shrugged off his shawl, reading the letter once more before tossing it into the air. It floated for a moment, before evaporating into smoke with a small hiss. The Mima arrived along with Tran for his morning bath. He gave very specific instructions for Castiel's bath before leaving them to set up in front of the mirror. Castiel allowed himself a single brow wrinkle, as Tran unstoppered the bottle the Mima had given him and poured the liquid into the bathwater. It was only once he stepped inside that Castiel understood why Tran had been instructed not to enter the bath with him. His skin was being tinted blue by the water. Castiel looked at Tran alarmed, but he was assured ut was neither permanent nor hideous.</p><p>After his bath, a shivering and bright blue Castiel installed himself in front of the mirror. He gasped. He was the color of the sky at highsun, and his hair looked black as pitch. Though he had no time to gawk at himself as the Mima went to work.</p><p>Literal hours later, Castiel emerged from his rooms. He could barely walk, or breathe for that matter. His costume was one of the most elaborate he had ever worn. Midnight blue silk shot through with gold in a pattern like the back of a turtle had been draped and pulled and knotted and tucked around his blue skinned body until he didn't know how he should ever be freed from it.  His shoulders and neck - left bare to show off the tint - was hung with enough gold and jewels and beads to break a camels back. it had taken no less than five slaves working on his hair to complete the unbelievably beautiful and intricate design they'd woven it into. Even more combs and copper wires and jewels and paints had been added to his hair until it too was an altogether different shade of whites and grays around his face and fading into rich brown. Behind him, great white swaths of thinnest white linen and veiling had been stretched over wires to create the illusion of ghostly wings trailing behind him. The slightest breeze made them slither like smoke. As he walked, he caught sight of his face. He saw nothing of himself in the reflection. Gold leaf and tiny jewels in jet black and green and red had been pasted to his skin around his heavily painted eyes. His lower lip was painted indigo, while his top lip was gold, with a clear jewel pasted to his chin.</p><p>The effect was striking to say the least. With a long golden scepter - as much decoration as needed fir walking in his dangerously elevated shoes - he looked more regal than perhaps he ever had.</p><p>He was led to a  magnificent room in the Crystal Keep, where a team of artists were already waiting with their easels and paints and all manner of things he didn't recognize. He thanked the Light when he saw a plush divan positioned on the raised dais he was to pose on. He'd never have been able to stand long enough for a portrait in this getup. Without a word - for he had been painted before - he let them direct him. And in some cases, ask Tran to move his arm or adjust his hair so it was just so.</p><p>"The Light see you Castiel. It sees you in its beautiful Eye." Tran whispered before retreating.</p><p>"The Queen?" he asked softly.</p><p>"After." Tran mouthed.</p><p>Settling in as comfortably as he could manage, Castiel fixed his eye on a spot on the wall and allowed his mind to wander to distant shores on the ship of Anne Bonny.</p><p>*     *     *</p><p>It was a fist before lowsun when a messenger announced the arrival of the Queen.</p><p>Castiel was exhausted. But once he was finally allowed to see their work, he had to admit they were masterful. If he was more prone to vanity he might've asked for one for his own chambers. But for the moment he had more pressing concerns. The doors opened, and two guards stepped through. Godspeaker Kufu appeared a moment later, followed by his Mother.</p><p>Everyone save Castiel touched their foreheads to the ground. The Queen blessed them, then instructed them to wait outside. With another bow, everyone swept out of the room.</p><p>Throughout, Castiel remained on the divan and adopted an expression of haughty calm he did not feel. He wanted them to see him in all his finery.</p><p>"Son." said the Queen.</p><p>"My lady Mother." Castiel answered. It seemed they would forego any more formal greetings.</p><p>"Lovely." she said, walking in a slow circle around the room looking at his portraits.</p><p>"You honor me." Castiel said.</p><p>"I honor the skill of the artists." the Queen said sounding vaguely annoyed. "You, I am told...have been making quite the spectacle of yourself of late."</p><p>It was a statement, not a question. Castiel threw a sidelong glance at Kufu. The spineless bootlicker. Castiel could only imagine what the treacherous fool had been whispering into The Queen's pillow. Better to play it dumb.</p><p>"A spectacle?" Castiel asked.</p><p>"Do not, play coy with me boy. I am in no mood for cleverness and trickery." The Queen said in a voice like distant thunder. "First that ludicrous display in the Keep. Leaping about like a hare in heat. Then, I return from a hunt to stories of malcontent Captains, public displays of ill comportment not to mention threatening a Godspeaker? In public? A member of my blood? "</p><p>"My lady I...." Castiel stammered.</p><p>"This is how my son honors me. Thusly I am represented. With a foreign delegation in the Palace. A time when above all, loyalty and unity are asked for.......you stamp your feet like a petulant child." She continued as if she had not heard him.</p><p>"If you would but let me explain. I only....the Reverend Mother....she..." Castiel said feeling hinself unraveling.</p><p>"The Reverend Mother indeed. A woman I have known since I was a girl. Who served your Grandmother, and mine. What have you to say of her?" The Queen asked. "She had much to say of you. Of your brashness. Of your ill manners. What shall I say to this? Hmm? Am I to be proud?"</p><p>"I am sorry if I embarrassed you in front of your suitors." Castiel said frantically.</p><p>"Embarrassed? You have disgraced yourself." she aaid, and Castiel feared for a moment she might strike him. Instead she merely whirled with a clinking of armor and a swish of cloak. "But......Dwelling on a thing will not change it. I have larger concerns than bringing you to heel. But mark me boy; from this moment forward....you will offer nothing but your obeisance and loyalty to my word."</p><p>"Any further disruption from you and I will see you on the Scorpion Wheel." The Queen said. n</p><p>"Concerns?" Castiel asked, fighting to keep his voice even.</p><p>"The Southerners are leaving after your nameday. I can only pray the Princess Idan has not heard tell of your foolishness and rejected your troth outright." She said.</p><p>"My....." Castiel asked, his blood turning to ice. "My troth my lady?"</p><p>"Of course. Why else do you think they are here? I have four sons who have just or will soon come of age. Light willing, I shall arrange suitable matches for all of you before the year is out. " The Queen said.</p><p>Castiel felt his heart hammering in his chest. "You wish to marry me to the Southern Queen?"</p><p>"You? No. Send my most beautiful son, to be covered at all times? No. perhaps your horse faced brother.  Never looking upon his countenance again would be no great loss." she said disdainfully. "No for you my son I have somethinf very special planned."</p><p>"Her Most serene and luminous majesty, has seen fit most wisely to open a negotiation of peace and sisterhood with the Morningstar of the West." Kufu said from the side. His voice dripped with honey. And Castiel could all but taste his glee.</p><p>"Li-illitur?" Castiel strangled out arround an icy gasp.</p><p>No.</p><p>Light see him. No. Please no.</p><p>The Morningstar was a colloquial term for the ruling house of the most Western Isles - House Sha-Tan. Very little was known about them save that their armies were feared throughout the known world. They guarded their culture and their ways fiercely. But what little was known about them revealed a brutal people who exalted conquest and gloried in death. They were all but barbarians. They had scant a generation of peace with the Novakari people behind them. Li-illitur had already been born when her mother swore peace. And far worse. They famously were the only nation in Mijak who worshipped other Gods in addition to the Light.</p><p>"You cannot mean to marry me to her." Castiel said horrified.</p><p>"She is a Warlord without a husband." The Queen said. "Your marriage will assure our alliance for all generations to come. My bloodline will intertwine with hers. The Light and the Morningstar will burn bright together."</p><p>"She is without husband because she has murdered her last seven!" Castiel burst out. "Any man who has not seeded her a daughter has been sacrificed to the Demons they fuck with!"</p><p>"Children's superstitions." Kufu said. "House Sha-Tan is perhaps less civilized, but they are fierce and powerful. A most worthy match for the blood of Novakar."</p><p>"And her husbands dropped dead of nothing did they?" Castiel said. "We all...."</p><p>"Tragic losses to be sure. But nonetheless...." Kufu interrupted.</p><p>"Li-Illitur Warlord has reached out to me. She wishes to improve her house's standing  within the Court. She is a fierce and powerful warrior, but she has no daughters to carry on her bloodline." The Queen explained.</p><p>"Marriage to any noble house would offer her Legitimacy." Castiel said. It was true. There was something else here. Like fat beneath the skin, dimpling the discussion. What else did she stand to gain from this?</p><p>"Mother....I beg you. You cannot mean to do this." Castiel said holding back a sob.</p><p>"It is done. Your portrait and that of your brothers leave to all corners come the next Godmoon. We have some time yet. It will be over two years until all of my sons are of age. Time enough for all the great houses to prepare tribute and present us with their proposals."</p><p>"And if House Sha-Tan is among them you mean to sell me like a common slave whore?" Castiel spat. "You would send me to my death. For some alliance?"</p><p>"Do not speak to me as if I am your equal boy!" the Queen barked. "There are matters at play you know nothing of...." the Queen bellowed. "Li-illitur commands a fleet five hundred ships strong, and has an army of three hundred thousand spears abd swords and pikewomen at her command. That can make for a powerful ally or a deadly enemy. She will not remain a widow long. If she marries the son of another warlord...."</p><p>"Are we to war then?" Castiel asked.</p><p>"Stupid boy. It is to prevent a war that you are being honored in this way." Kufu said irritably.</p><p>"Even at the cost of my life? I am your son." Castiel cried.</p><p>"Yes. And a son is not a daughter." the Queen said turning and walking out of the room.</p><p>*     *      *</p><p>Present day:</p><p>Castiel awoke to hear Gabriel whispering orders to a slave. Something about food, and the fire. He was fully content to slip back under the surface of sleep, when he heard another voice.</p><p>"S'at ole spider bitch. Been fillin his head with all kinds of nonsense." Joh said.</p><p>"She did upset him rather greatly." Gabriel said sounding worried. "He's  so young. I forget sometimes. He's always been so grown up. It's easy to think of him as a man."</p><p>"Be a man soon enough." Joh said around the dook dook dook sound of wine being poured.</p><p>"You've traveled out West. What do you make of this...Morningstar?" Gabriel asked. So he knew. Did everyone know?</p><p>"Never met her. I only been as far the border me. They're a cagy lot them Westerners. Don't much like Foreigners treadin they lands." Joh said. But her voice was tinged with something. Something like awe. Or fear.</p><p>"Your grandmother fought in the war that made allies of them. When the Western isles and territories were conquered. Surely you must know something." Gabriel urged.</p><p>"They say they sailed over the ocean from some unknown land beyond the edge of the world. They're fierce sailors. And their fighters don't fear death. That much is known. As for the rest, I couldn't tell ya. My gran loved nothin better than a war story. But she never spoke about that war. Never."</p><p>"I've heard they feast on the flesh of their dead. And drink the blood of their enemies mixed with wine. I've heard it changes them. Makes them impossible to kill." Gabriel said sounding sad, and fearful.</p><p>"I never met a woman can't be killed. As for the rest...." there was a clinking of armor that may have been a shrug. "....who knows? I'm a soldier. I believe what I can see. I leave stories and fairytales for the Bards."</p><p>"Except the bards have no tales to tell of them do they?" Castiel said loudly from the top of the stairs leading to his bed. Both Gabriel and Joh leapt to meet him.</p><p>"Dearest!" Gabriel said half smothering him in a hug. "I was all but mad with worry! You've been sleeping almost a day and a night!"</p><p>"How you feeling Sprout?" Joh asked.</p><p>"Well enough to be put up for sale." Castiel said wryly, accepting her hug; feeling Joh drag her calloused hands through his hair.</p><p>"There he is." she said affectionately.</p><p>"Tell me you didn't know." He said pulling back.</p><p>"I had my suspicions your mum were puttin out feelers to find you and your brothers a wife. But Light burn me to a crisp where I stand Sprout I never...." Joh began, her voice turning thick as she spoke the oath. Castiel stilled her with a hand on her chest. He forced a smile through stinging eyes. He believed her. Even when he was a child Joh had had no talent for play acting. The anguish written on her ugly handsome features  was heartbreakingly sincere. Even moreso because it told Castiel what she thought of this match.</p><p>"I suppose it's just as well you never told me of the outside world Noo noo. I'll not live to see it." Castiel said softly.</p><p>"Come now. Don't talk like that." Gabriel said urging him to a seat and pouring him a generous glass of wine. "For all we know all of this is just poppycock and superstitions. We didn't know anything about the Southerners. And look how well that's  turned out."</p><p>Castiel nodded.  So Gabriel had heard of his own fate as well.</p><p>"You're young. And beautiful. And strong and healthy. There's no reason to doubt you'll seed this Li-illitur with hordes of daughters. And think then." Gabriel said, smiling a bright luminious smile that didn't reach his eyes.  "All this will have been for nothing."</p><p>"It'll be all right in the end. For both of us."</p><p>Castiel nodded. It was as much as he could muster.</p><p>"In the meantime, I'm puttin my name forward to head up the envoy what delivers your portraits." Johdilia said.</p><p>"Joh that's a sweet gesture." Castiel said. "But she'll never let you go to perform such a menial task."</p><p>"I ain't askin. I mean to have myself a good look at this Morningstar." she said with a stiff nod.  "Light see you lords" she said rising and making to leave.</p><p>"And you." they both said together.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. The Harrowspex</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Castiel takes his fate into his own hands.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>You guys!!!! Almost one month since I started this! This chapter marks the end of Act One. World building and character establishing done! Time to fuck shit up!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was no great shock that he couldn't sleep. His mind was gravid with all the horrors and questions and hurt feelings imaginable. It was not the first time the limitations of his gender had been pointed out to him. But this was undoubtedly the worst. The concept of marriage, of politics and treaties. They had always been there. But they had been distant. A nameless, shapeless SOMEDAY thing that didn't bear too much thinking.</p><p>He'd been such a fool.</p><p>He'd dismissed all his slaves as soon as the last traces of blue had been scrubbed from his skin; and ordered his guards as far as it was possible for them to go. He wanted to be alone. Wrapped in his shawl, his damp hair falling heavily about him; he walked with a small lamp and walked. He walked out of his rooms and down the two long portrait galleries that led from his door to the staircases. Pausing next to each one, he felt like a newborn foal seeing the world for the first time. How had he walked by them so many times and never noticed them? He must've known them for what they are. How had he never SEEN them?</p><p>They were betrothal portraits. Every one. And looking at them, in their finery and ornaments; with their flowing hair and frozen faces.....he realized they were just like him. All of them.</p><p>Stupid, idiotic boys who'd all probably thought their lives would amount to something more than just a cock for Warlords to ride. They must've dreamed the same dreams. Cried the same tears. And for what? To end up as ornaments on his wall. Most of them didn't even have names inscribed on the bottom. History doesn't remember the names of the men.</p><p>He let himself sink to the floor in front of a particularly large portrait at the end of the gallery. He didn't realize until now that he'd been walking here from the start, so he could sit on the floor in front of his Father's own portrait. It was beautifully done. His father was painted on a bench among holly flowers, with floral garlands braided into his hair. Castiel looked at his painted face and felt a fist of pain squeeze his heart and wring fresh tears out of his stinging eyes.</p><p>He didn't speak. He knew his Father wasn't here. His body was interred in the crypt beneath the keep. But Castiel needed to see his face. To look into his eyes and try to glean some wisdom there.</p><p>"You left me here alone. And now...." he whispered.</p><p>He shivered suddenly. He knew he should try and sleep. To recover his strength. But he was afraid. Ever since the Queen's revelation he couldn't help but shake the vision from his dreams. He was beginning to think the death and despair he'd seen was his own.</p><p>*        *        *</p><p>It was dead night when he felt someone gently shaking him awake. As soon as his eyes opened, he felt a cool finger press to his lips.</p><p>"Tran?" he asked. Tran pressed his finger to his lips to indicate silence, motioning for Castiel to follow. They hurried to his dressing rooms, where by candlelight Tran helped him dress in black trousers, black shirt and a black tunic. Before coiling his hair in a dark sash and draping his same thick black riding cloak from the other night, over his shoulders.</p><p>"Tran, what's going on?" Castiel asked worming his fingers into black kidskin gloves.</p><p>"Do you trust me?" Tran asked.</p><p>"With my life." Castiel said smoothly.</p><p>"Then follow me." Tran said pulling Castiel's hood low over his eyes.</p><p>They used Servant stairs and dimly lit passages, going ever down, down and following some route Tran seemed to know. In these small hours, it was easy enough to avoid the guards. But Castiel was growing concerned. They seemed to have come an awfully long way. He had absolutely no idea where they even were anymore. If they got separated now....</p><p>Abruptly, they came to a small gate at the bottom of some stairs. It was locked. Beyond it flowed a small aqueduct. Castiel had the feeling of being underground. And the air was not fresh.</p><p>"Where are we?" Castiel asked.</p><p>"The Lover's Gate." Gabriel's voice said as he seemed to melt from the night.</p><p>"Light blind you! Gabriel!! What on earth is going on?" Castiel squeaked.</p><p>"Calm yourself pet. When our Great Grandmother added this expansion to the Palace, she made sure to include several passages to sneak her lovers in unseen. The women of the blood have always had a roving eye. But tonight, that works in our favor. Now come along. We're not out of the Palace grounds yet." Gabriel said producing a much rusted key from his pocket and unlocking the gate so Tran and Castiel could step through.</p><p>"Palace Grounds....Gabriel. I'm not going one more step until you tell me what's going on here." Castiel said dangerously.</p><p>"I couldn't say anything while Johdilia was there. But you don't honestly think I'm going to let our mother marry you to that demon do you? I only ask...that you keep an open mind." Gabriel said, nodding to Tran who closed the gate and relocked it.</p><p>"I don't understand." Castiel said looking between them.</p><p>"You will." Tran said. "But I'm afraid I must wait for you here."</p><p>Gabriel took Castiel's hand and pulled him along into the night. Castiel had a thousand questions.</p><p>"Gabriel please! I beg you. Where are we going? How do you even kn....I've never...." Castiel stammered.</p><p>"You don't remember my Body Servant Sula?" Gabriel asked as they walked. Castiel shook his head. "He was a gift to me from our Mother for my eigth nameday. He hailed from one of the far flung districts along the Drag. He and his kin were all the rage at Court for a while because of their exotic skin. Do you recall?"</p><p>Again Castiel shook his head. He couldn't imagine the relevance of any of this. But he was too busy marveling at the darkened buildings they passed. Oh to have been able to come here in the daytime. The streets immediately surrounding the Palace walls were surprisingly grubby. Wide cobblestones streets that reeked of manure and pish and many bodies. There were no residences this close to the Palace, which meant most of the buildings were dark now. But Castiel knew from years of observation that most of these were Solicitors, Lesser Government Edifices and the odd holding pen. They avoided the Godposts on nearly every street corner and made their way south to the poorer districts of the city.</p><p>"They fell out of favor when it was discovered, there were still those among them who practiced the religions of their homeland. Sula was made an example of. He was ravaged, beaten and promptly banished. But not before he'd saved enough coin....with my help; to bring his sister to the city." Gabriel explained as he led Castiel to a rather seedy looking region.</p><p>"Gabriel. I've been looking down at this city all my life. Why are we going into the Bone Slums?" he asked. He could hear the fear in his own voice. But he didn't care. Every city has those parts not spoken of in polite conversation. For Et-Novakar, it was the Bone Slums. Despite the significant size, this area did not have a sufficient business or trade to warrant District status. And its inhabitants were far too varied. Hailing from all corners of the kingdom, the Slums were filled with people who had come to Et-Novakar seeking a better life and finding only more of what they'd left behind. The result was a kind of nowhere/everywhere soup flavored with every foreign dialect, culture and less than legal Trade. Pleasure Houses bartering flesh. Smoke Dens. Apothecaries. Anything and everything was on offer here, for those willing to pay the price, and take their chances. And through it all like rot through a tree ran the signs of poverty.street</p><p>"Do you remember when Mother tried to send me as a Ward to live in Et-Haravelle?" Gabriel asked.</p><p>"Yes.....she thought you should, experience a different culture....?" Castiel said trying to remember.</p><p>"That was the official reason. She was punishing me for what she felt was an inappropriate  closeness with one of my Slaves..." Gabriel said speaking as if he were forming the words around a razor sharp piece of metal in his mouth.</p><p>"Brother...." Castiel said putting out a hand.</p><p>"But I never went anywhere." Gabriel said shrugging him off.</p><p>"She changed her mind?" Castiel asked.</p><p>"She changed her mind. Because I changed it for her." Gabriel said with a wicked grin Castiel didn't trust.</p><p>Gabriel steered him away from a particularly busy looking street, motioning him down a back alley to a door sunk below the street level. There was a bell fitted over the door, which tinkled as they walked through. Castiel couldn't help the way his mouth fell open at what he saw there.</p><p>The room was not large. And it was not small. Lit only by a single lamp and a fire in the small hearth worked into one wall - where a pot hung bubbling - the space was packed with all manner of fascinating things. One wall was taken up entirely be shelves, packed to bursting with jars and bottles of all sizes. Castiel couldn't begin to guess what they contained, but each was labeled in careful script. As he moved further into the room, he had to duck around braids of dried grasses and herbs low enough to touch his shoukders, and hanging pots of more greenery he didn't recognize. The air in the room had the smell of matted fur and dandruff covered skin. As if too many smells were competing with one another. A single wooden table ran the length of the room. In it was a large stone pestle and mortar, a wickedly sharp looking knife and a pair of scales. A large bucket was poised to on one side of the table, filled to the brim with what appeared to be animal parts and various throwaway bits of gore.</p><p>Behind this tabke stood a woman, facing them. Her hair was hidden beneath a brightly colored turban, hung with strings of beads that clacked with the movement of her head. Her clothes too were brightly colored. Somewhere between a robe and a gown. Though Castiel could see she was not thin. Vut what doninated all else was her skin. It was the same brown as roasting chestnuts. Her neck and chest were hung with necklaces and talismans. And Castiel noticed her entire appearance had all the decorations and baubles of an almost masculine attire.</p><p>Her night black eyes settled on him and he felt himself freeze in place.</p><p>"You are welcome in my house Castiel." the womaj said. Though he felt his eyes stretch wide. She had not spoken using words. Rather she had said the wirds directly into his mind.</p><p>"Meet Sula's sister. This is Misoorayah." Gabriel said, stripping off his black cloak.</p><p>*     *     *</p><p>"Cassie..." Gabriel began.</p><p>"What is this? Castiel asked.</p><p>"She's a Harrowspex." Gabriel explained. His tone was soothing, and he held his hands as if he were kneading an invisible ball of dough. "A weirding woman of her people. I've known her for years."</p><p>"What does that mean?" Castiel demanded. He was swiftly losing his patience.</p><p>"It means I have certain...gifts. Gifts I can use to heal. Or to hurt. But you know all about that don't you Castiel?" Misoorayah said watching the exchange with obvious amusement.</p><p>"I help the people who walk through that door in whatever way they need. And for the right price. Man's wife fuckin him too hard, I can brew him a tea that'll dry her cunt and douse her flame." she said. "Man's wife got a wandering eye? I have herbs....one pinch in a cup of wine she'll ride him till morning."</p><p>"Gabriel this woman is a witch." Castiel said turning away from her.</p><p>"You sharpen your tongue on me boy." she said sounding more amused than offended. "It is only the foolish who dismiss things they don't understand. And while you may be many things, foolish has never been one of them."</p><p>"Do not presume to know me witch." Castiel hissed through clenched teeth.</p><p>"But I do. I know all things that are lost. That is my blessing. And that is my curse." Misoorayah said, picking up the knife and hacking into a headless chicken, pulling out the guts with her fingers.</p><p>"She can help us. Help you. I trust her."  Gabriel said.</p><p>"I think my problems go a bit beyond tea abd herbs brother." Castiel said. "I appreciate you trying to help but..."</p><p>"The Harrowspex true powers lie elsewhere Cassie. Just....trust me. I've seen her do it. She can read your future. And sometimes she can help you change it." Gabriel said earnestly. As if on cue, Misoorayah pulled a piglet carcass from the bucket. it was missing its head and feet, but as she pushed her fingers into the neck cavity, she withdrew a handful of foul smelling organs and guts.</p><p>"Light. What are you doing to that poor thing? Isn't it dead enough already?" Castiel asked.</p><p>"Not all magick is bending light boy. That is a talent bred into your veins. Mine is a different magick. A power derived from blood, and meat, and bone." she said.  Castiel could not help the revulsion from showing on his face as she lifted the entrails to her face with a meaty squelch. He'd read of Harrowspexy in books. But he'd never seen anything remotely like it. Their power was fuelled by organic matter and with it they could perform any number of terrible and incredible things. From reading the future in entrails to making effigies in the likeness of a person that could be used to torture them from afar.</p><p>"Not so easy this thing you ask." she said. The smile that spread over her face was like a knife being drawn from its sheath. Three of her teeth had been replaced with gold ones.</p><p>"I didn't ask for anything." Castiel said.</p><p>"Not you." Misoorayah said with a smirk.</p><p>"I need you to do for him what you once did for me. Cast the threads. Let him choose his own path." Gabriel said in a voice Castiel didn't recognize. He looked at his brother, feeling as if he'd never seen him before.</p><p>"Twenty gold dragons." The Harrowspex said.</p><p>"Fifteen" Gabriel said.</p><p>"Eighteen. And a cask of Palace wine." Misoorayah said. "A small price for your brother's future...."</p><p>"Lies." Castiel rolled his eyes. "Gabriel. I'm leaving."</p><p>"Pax child. Can't an old Harrowspex haggle anymore?" she asked chuckling. "Your brother pays my gokd price. But there is still the matter of your price. The blood price...."</p><p>"I'm not bleeding for you." Castiel said glaring at Gabriel.</p><p>"Hear her out Cassie. You walk out that door, that's it. Your fate will be sealed. And once you come of age.....at least agree to listen. Please?"</p><p>"All right. Tell me." Castiel said turning back to the woman.</p><p>"Only life can pay for life. You want a new and different life to the one you're leading? New life will need to be created." she said., dipping her bloody fingers into a jar of black powder and sprinkling it into a bowl.</p><p>"What does that mean?" Castiel asked.</p><p>"Fear not boy. I require only as much as would be your contribution to any birth." Misoorayah breathed, picking up a bundle of herbs and placing them in with the powder.</p><p>It took him a moment to catch her meaning. He was watching the contents of the bowl, which were beginning to sputter and smoke.</p><p>"You can't mean...." Castiel began.</p><p>"Your seed." she said, blowing the thick white smoke directly into his face. He coughed and spat, waving his hands in front of his face before.......</p><p>Blackness.</p><p>*     *     *</p><p>When he awoke his head was thick and pounding. His mouth tasted like sour milk and his body was sluggish to move. As he sat up from the straw mat he was on, he noticed to his horror that his trousers were unlaced. With a frantic gasp, his dumb flabby fingers clawed to redress himself.</p><p>"Relax boy. It is over." he heard a female voice.</p><p>Memory came flooding in and he all but roared. "What in the name of the Light have you done to me witch?!" he snarled.</p><p>"Less than nothing. You did it to yourself." Misoorayah said with a knowing smirk.</p><p>"Where's my brother?" He asked.</p><p>"Outside. Waiting. This next you must do alone."</p><p>Finally redressed, he looked around.</p><p>It was a cavernous, windowless place he was in. But he could only assume the door to the side led to the storefront he'd been in earlier. Bricks and boards had been removed from the floor to allow water from a gurgling fountainhead on the wall to run in a straight line toward a basin set into the floor. it was far too narrow for a bath. And Castiel could only assume there must be some ceremonial purpose to the water. Dangling into the water were a multitude of threads. They were white, but it looked as if they'd been dipped in paint; knotted around a hook screwed into the hall. Each one had been tied with an amulet and a silver bell midway between the hook and the water. They were not all the same length. some barely touched the  water. While others stretched the length of the room.</p><p>The witch sat braiding yet more strings. She had a spool of the rough hewn thread, and a box of amulets. She closed her eyes, breathing deeply as she measured another string, before threading it with amulets and bells and....</p><p>"Is that my hair?!" He howled, pointing at the handful of rich brown hair laid out on a white cloth in front of her.</p><p>"Unavoidable." she said, dipping the braided string into a bowl of what he could now see was blood - by virtue of the freshly killed crow next to her - blood in a bowl in front of her. He could only assume his seed was mixed in with it. He did not want to ponder that too deeply. The apparentack of any disgust she had to working such things with her bare hands was disconcerting to say the least. The string was added in with the rest.</p><p>"Come child." she said motioning hin forward with one black stained hand. He obliged. She rose from her seat, bringing with her a pair of sheers. She walked to the hook on the wall, handing him the sheers when he came close enough. He grimaced. They were warm. And caked with blood from her hands. She rifled among the threads, before picking out the only black one dangling there. It bore an amulet carved in the shape of a star.</p><p>"This....is your current future." she said. "See its end." she continued, pulling it out to reveal an identical star amulet at the end weighing it down. Castiel shuddered. It was not very long. It barely touched the surface of the water. "If you cut it here, above the bell; you silence that future forever. And you may choose a new one."</p><p>Castiel felt his eyes stretch wide. Did that mean each one of these was.....</p><p>"Yes. A life. A possibility. A different path." she answered his thoughts as if he'd spoken them aloud.</p><p>"Is this real?' he asked in a small voice.</p><p>"As real as you and I standing here." she said. "But hear me. A word of caution before you decide. I have seen every path. They lead many places. Some of joy. Others to the depths of sorrow. Choose wisely. For you can only choose....once. We tempt the wrath of the old gods and thend new with even this choosing."</p><p>"What about the others?" he asked.</p><p>"Lives you'll never live. Children you'll never have." Misoorayah said.</p><p>Castiel did not hesitate. He took the black cord in his hand. And just for a moment, he felt a feeling of profound dread. The texture felt all wrong in his hands. And the star amulet seemed silently to scream.</p><p>With a metallic tearing sound, he severed it with the sheers.</p><p>The cord fell into the water and washed away.</p><p>He might've imagined it. But it was almost as if a chill ran down his spine. And his skin let up with goose flesh.</p><p>"Nkw you must choose." she said. "And remember. You may choose, only once."</p><p>He didn't know how long he stood there, touching one cord then the next. He closed his eyes, letting his senses and his instincts feel out each one. Before slicing them off and moving his hands to clasp the next one. Some were long. Some were shorter. Some brought a tear to his eye. While others made him feel giddy and restless.</p><p>He didn't know just what was different about the one until his hand clasped it. His hand didn't light up. His heart didn't leap. Rather it was the opposite. There was something.....safe. Something familiar. Like being wrapped in a warm embrace. Or a smelling a favorite dish. It was home. Love.</p><p>And when he let go he missed it instantly. He studied the amulet fixed to it. It was a face, wearing a horned headdress.</p><p>He picked it up again. And he knew. Without another thought, he rang the bell, watching the cord turn black in his hand. On cue. All the other cords fell from the hook.</p><p>"Light see you child. Your choice is made. It's over." Misoorayah whispered.</p><p>She was wrong of course. It was in fact, all just beginning.</p><p>END OF ACT ONE</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Betrayal is a blade.....</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Dee-Ann, now a beauty of 16 has flourished in the villa of Maeghara. But he is about to learn the true purpose of just why Maeghara saved him from the Village; and now several difficult choices lie before him.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Splitting this into two parts for length.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The wheel of time turns ever forward. Ages come and pass in the Eye of the God, leaving in their wake memories that become legend. Legends that eventually fade to myth. And even myth, in the fullness of time;  will be forgotten.  </p><p>It rained the morning everything changed. Whether or not the rain had any relevance to the profundity of what followed is unclear. That it came at the end of a harsh and bitter summer is definitely not relevant, but worth mentioning all the same. It was late in the year, the seasons were changing. And all along the city, lanterns had been hung in preparation for the Et-Novakari Queen's nameday festival. The festival of lights it was called, a day of rest and celebration throughout the Queendom.</p><p>The caravans of tribute sent to the Ruling City  in honor of the Festival were most assuredly relevant to the unfolding of events. But I am telling this tale out of order. Dee-Ann would've hated that.</p><p>The rain that morning was not THE beginning, for there are none in the turning of the Wheel. No more than was the ill fated meeting with thrice cursed Maeghara, the Bazaar where he found his Scorpion amulet, crossing blades with Bobarak in the Godhouse of Et-Mamiklia or even the 90 day pilgrimage with then uncrowned Castiel.</p><p>But it was a beginning. And the world has never been the same.</p><p>- Excerpt from "The Early Days of Dee-Ann the Kingmaker" by Princess Kla'ara of Et-Novakar</p><p>_*_*_*_*_*_</p><p>Time had passed in Et-Banotaj city. And in the villa of Traders Maeghara and Derubeis, in his room tucked under the stairs, Dee-Ann had grown into a vision. Gone was the scared half-savage he-brat who had shrieked at the idea of a bath; and whose world had fit in a child's fist. In its stead now sat a young man in the first bloom of glowing , resplendent beauty. He had grown tall, and his body was firm and lithe. Away from the harshness of the desert sun, his skin had paled from weathered brown to a silky cream. His golden godbraids now slapped the small of his back when he stood  and sang with silver godbells every time he moved. His movements, were graceful; less like a young man and more like one of stupid Derubeis' fish swimming through the air. It was his face however, above all else that made him beautiful. Youthful roundness had made way for a study in sculpted angles and a strong masculine jaw. The soft, fulness of his lips made those he spoke to hang on his every word. But looking into his liquid green eyes made them deaf.</p><p>He lay awake in his bed now,waiting for the Slave Naga to call him for breakfast. How could he sleep? Today was the day! He was stripped to the waist, and his godbraids flung out above him on the soft pillow. The Scorpion amulet was, as ever, tucked into his tunic pocket, which hung over the chair. Sweeping out from under the covers, he crossed the room and took it out; returning to his bed with it. He turned it over in his hands; feeling its familiar edges and points.  When the slave Naga finally came, he thrust the amulet under the pillows and went to eat and bathe.</p><p>Many days had passed since he'd first found the amulet in the demon-ridden old hag's stall. They passed quickly and slowly. He paid them no mind. In the slave world below the stairs, days threaded together like beads in his hair.</p><p>*     *     *</p><p>(The day of the bazaar)</p><p>Maeghara never went beneath the villa. Her feet never touched the stairs that led down to the kitchen, and the laundry, and the work rooms and the storerooms, and the slave sleeping quarters: and out to the slave gardens where fresh fruit and vegetables were grown. The slaves went upstairs. Every day they went to clean the villa, and to serve Maeghara and Derubeis and theiR Trader guests and to do all the things that Maeghara needed them to do. But she never once came down.</p><p>Dee-Ann had sulked in the beginning. He was used to seeing Maeghara everyday. He'd seen her and talked with her every day from newsun to lowsun since the Village. Even when they'd traveled in silence; when she'd pinched his shoulder or tugged his godbraid to still his tongue; she'd been there with him. A constant, reassuring presence at his back in this strange new and ever expanding world.</p><p>He missed that. He missed her.</p><p>He was lonely.</p><p>The feeling of loneliness offended him. Loneliness belonged to the nameless he brat in the village who lived under a table, and chained to the wall. That ignorant naked Skin and Bones thing destined for the dogs,  or an end even worse... It had lived in loneliness the way a fish lives in water.  But he wasn't that sad he-brat anymore.  He wore fine clothes. He ate meat and drank camel milk. His hair was godbraided with amulets and silver bells.  He had a name now. He had a tutor bought and paid for.</p><p>How could the Dee-Ann, precious and beautiful in the gods eye  ever be lonely?</p><p>The goat slaves beneath the stairs did not speak to him. They spoke to each other but not to him.  Even when he had to work with them when the slave Ashar said he had to earn his keep.  Even then they would not speak to him.  He thought that might be the slave Obid's doing.  She lived at the Villa and spoke to the slaves. She spoke to the slaves about him, he was sure.  </p><p>So they knew where he'd come from.  The Savage East.  They knew what he used to be. Dirty, nameless he brat. They didn't understand what he'd become.  They let Obid"s maggots questions writhe in their hearts. Only when Asher said that they had to, would they ever speak to him.  </p><p>Not that he cared.</p><p>They were jealous that Maeghara was Maeghara.  Not mistress. They were jealous that he wore no slave braid. They were jealous that he dressed in silk and cotton,  and that Maeghara paid the stupid tutor coins to teach him reading and writing,  and how to dance. Reading and writing were tedious, but he loved dancing.</p><p>Twenty eight High Suns came and went without him once being called up the stairs to see her. Twenty eight highsuns without Maeghara to talk, and tease, and poke fun at pouting Rubi.</p><p>Once, the Slave Naga  caught him looking up the stairs. She shook her fist at him.</p><p>"Go up the stairs without permission into the villa, and you'll be beaten."  she said. From the tone of her voice he could tell she wished there would be a beating.</p><p>There would not.  Staying below the stairs was Maeghara's word.  But her word chafed him.  It chafed him like slave chains on his ankles. It poked him like the end of Obid's spear.</p><p>But he stayed Beneath The Villa. He did his lessons.  The stupid tutor taught him reading and writing. He scrubbed pots in the kitchen.  He washed sheets in the laundry. He toiled among the vegetables and fruits in the garden.  He ate his meals in the kitchen with the Villas stupid slaves.  He listened to them laugh and joke and tease.  They told tales of the city which they could sometimes to visit, but he could not.  He was not free here, the way he had been on the road. Here there were rules to follow. Here there were slaves with nasty maggot questions roiling in their eyes.</p><p>But she would send for him soon, she had to. And then they would walk this world together. He understood why she hadn't sent for him.</p><p>Maeghara was busy. She had Trader business. He knew from the slaves gossip how many Traders came and went upstairs.  She was a respected woman,  and many women came to seek her counsel.  Been a rumor that she had been summoned to the Warlord's Palace one day.  Everytime he missed her Dee-Ann closed his fist around his beautiful blue amulet.  He was lucky to belong to someone so important even a warlord sought her counsel.  </p><p>Even so, she would send for him soon.  She had to.  He was precious.  Surely she must miss him the way he missed her.  So he waited. While he waited he practiced his picture letters and words symbols.  He practiced writing them with a stylus on the wax tablets  the stupid tutor brought with him everyday.  He practiced reading the tablets the tutor left for him at the end of each day. While he was in the garden pulling weeds, raking leaves and spreading balls of chicken shit on the vegetables, he practiced his letters in his head. He would hear the tambourine of the tutor in his mind  and  lightly dance the steps he'd been taught.  He could feel the eyes of the female slaves tracing his every move as he walked and moved and danced. He was beginning to learn that beauty meant eyes on him. Beauty meant lustful women and hungry eyes.  He ignored them. He couldn't care less if slave women wanted to look at him.  His beauty was for Maeghara alone.</p><p>When she sent for him at last Megara would be so proud of her clever, beautiful Dee-Ann.</p><p>She summoned him a finger before low sun on the 29th day.  He was in his chamber under the tairs practicing his writing, when the slave Asher came in unannounced.  Such a rude man! Dee-Ann did not like him.</p><p>Get up! Get up! " he said. "Dress yourself! The mistress wishes to see you now the mistress wishes to see you now."</p><p>Dee-Ann like to practice his writing laying flat on his stomach on the floor, with the soft pink carpet tickling his skin. He leapt up while the Slave Ashar walked away and Naga came to escort him.</p><p>"Maeghara!"  he said with delight.  "  I must be beautiful for her!"</p><p>He rummaged through the wooden trunk that contained his bazaar clothes. He selected a tunic striped in red and gold.  And pantaloons of soft yellow. He pulled off the white cotton shoes he was wearing and instead reached for his curly toed slippers.</p><p>He pulled off the yellow shift he was wearing   and quickly dressed.  It did not matter that she or any other slave could see his skin. Naga was a gelding.  With the exception of Obid all the slaves in the Villa were geldings.  It was too dangerous to own a slave that could become pregnant.  Slaves fucked like mad things. And a pregnant slave was a dangerous thing.  They could rise up and  tempt the god to smiting by killing their mistresses. On the same day a slave received their red slave braids they were also gelded by the godspeaker.</p><p>Beautifully dressed for Maeghara, Dee-Ann followed the Slave Naga upstairs. Maeghara was sitting in the same lavish room as before. Derubeis was there as well, sitting on a soft couch with the stupid monkey Hooli. The furry little creature with leaping around, spitting date stones on the carpet.  Unlike him, the evil little beast had the freedom to go anywhere in the Villa that it wanted.</p><p>A few times he had come back to his chamber to find the little beast in there. It had torn one of his favorite robes and he slapped it. He had been sure it would run straight to Rubi. Thankfully, despite its Masters many many compliments the monkey was stupid. It could not talk. Nor could it carry Tales to its master.</p><p>He was so pleased to see Maeghara!  He wanted to run to her! The dance for her!  To show her that she could trust him above the stairs.</p><p>But he didn't run, or dance. Her face told him she wanted him to be silent.  So he obeyed, holding inside all his shouting pleasure. He walked to the couch nearest to her and sat down with his back very straight.</p><p>"Naga."  she said. "You give a good report of this one?"</p><p>Naga's face with sour. But she could not lie. "A good report mistress."</p><p>"And what does the tutor say?" Maeghara asked pitching her chin up.</p><p>"The tutor tells me he learns swiftly Mistress."  the slave said.</p><p>Maeghara turned to Rubi, who had captured the monkey and was feeding it dates.</p><p>"Was I not right old friend?"  she asked with a wide smile.</p><p>"Half right so far."  The other woman said sounding uninterested and scratching her fingers along the furry belly of the little beast.  "As for the rest Mega, it remains to be seen."</p><p>In her lap the monkey made purring noises as she began brushing its coat with an ivory comb.  Stupid pet. As stupid as its owner.</p><p>Maeghara  picked up a large clay tablet from the couch next to her. She held it out to him and said: "Read this out loud for me."</p><p>Dee-Ann  took the clay tablet between both of his hands.  The tablet was heavy. If he dropped it and it broke, Maeghara would be angry with him. So he held it tightly as he turned it to have a better look. So he held it tightly as he turned it to have a better look.</p><p>He studied the tablets writing carefully before, beginning to read out loud.</p><p>"All obedience...... Pleases the God." he read slowly, sounding out each symbol with teeth and tongue. "Sacrifice pleases it. Offerings... Um...offerings...."</p><p>"Swell." Maeghara  said patiently. "That is the symbol for swell.  Do you know the word, do you know the word 'swell'?"</p><p>Mute and  trembling, he shook his head.  He could not read the tablet. He had failed her. Stinging tears threatened to fall from his eyes.</p><p>"It  means to increase. To make larger. It is an old-fashioned word. Keep reading." she said.</p><p>Still trembling, he looked at the clay tablet again. "Offerings swell the...the..."</p><p>Aaaaaiiiiieeeeeee!!!!!!  Another word he didn't know! He stared at the picture symbol. He knew the word sounds! Wasn't that enough?  What did the stupid tutor say?  The stupid tutor told him to look at the word symbols around the one he didn't know, and see if perhaps they could help him. He looked at the other word symbols. Offerings swell to something, but what?</p><p>That symbol there. It almost looks like the symbol for God.  Almost but not quite. Memories stirred. They showed him the day that they had gone to the bazaar. They showed him the day that they had gone to the bazaar. Godposts on every corner. Young God speakers with baskets on their back walking to collect offerings.</p><p>"Godbowl!"  he shouted sounding excited. "Maeghara! Dee-ann  knows this word! It means gospel knows this word! It means Godbowl!"</p><p>Where she sat Maeghara looked at him with a smile. She waved one painted hand at him to continue. Dee-Ann smiled at her before doing just that. Derubeis rolled her eyes as usual.</p><p>"Offerings swell the Godbowl.  The scorpion stings the woman with...with..." It was no good. He hadn't been reading for so very long. They were too many new words symbols. He couldn't guess the rest.</p><p>"... With a heart like Stone." Maeghara said, taking the tablet from him. "These words are given to us by the high Godspeaker of Et-Banitaj. Can you see his name written on the bottom of the tablet?"</p><p>Dee-Ann nodded, still too disappointed in himself to speak out loud.</p><p>He looked hard. Yes, there was a name there. The stupid tutor had taught him to write his own name. And Maeghara's, and Derubeis. He frowned at it.</p><p>"The name is...Bobarak." he said finally.</p><p>"Yess it is. You have been listening to your tutor Dee-Ann. I am pleased with you." she said.</p><p>Maeghara is pleased. Pleased. He could not keep his laughter from escaping.</p><p>She put away the tablet then. From the basket next to her chair she retrieved a painted tambourine. She gave it to Naga.</p><p>"Make music, so Dee-Ann can dance." she ordered.</p><p>Dancing, the stupid tutor said; strengthened the body and made the heart strong. It kept the muscles lithe and supple.</p><p>When he danced, his silver godbells saying without ceasing; as if the music sang within his blood. He felt alive. He felt connected to the ground, and sky, and air all around him. It seemed he knew how to dance before the stupid tutor showed him one thing about it. As though that dance was already inside him, waiting to come out.</p><p>He danced from Maeghara, honoring her. When he finished, and the last tambourine chime had died; even Rubi praised him.</p><p>"Very pretty." I said Rubi with the monkey still clambering all over her arms and shoulders.  "That was a pretty dance."</p><p>"Dee-Ann is graceful. And beautiful." said Maeghara looking at him with pleasure in her eyes. " you must continue to practice and to do your lessons with your tutor Dee-Ann. I look forward to seeing your progress when we return."</p><p>"Return?"  Dee-Ann asked, his features twisting themselves into a question mark.</p><p>"Yes, in two fat Godmoons Maeghara and I will go caravanning. We have been tasked by the High Godspeakers to join a royal procession. We are being allowed to trade and collect rare tribute from three separate regions in time for the Queen's name day. A great honor. The God sees us and its Eye." Goat Derubeis gloated.</p><p>"Dee-Ann go caravanning with Maeghara?" he asked.</p><p>"Silly monkey! You will remain here! And do as you're told!" Derubeis barked. " it is an important Mission we have been given! We have no need of your stupid, chattering, godlessness on the road!"</p><p>"It is true Dee-Ann. It pleases me that you should remain here. Learn your letters. Practice your dancing. Improve yoiur speech. And heed your tutor. This is my word. Do these things, and you will please me. Disobey me, and you will be punished. Derubeis and I travel far to the West. It is no place for you." Maeghara said.</p><p>"To deliver a personal message from the Et-Novakari Queen herself! We are blessed Mega! Truly! So much opportunity for trading. So much money!" Derubeis chattered mindlessly.</p><p>Dee-Ann said nothing. He felt a hollowing in his chest. But he kept his face still. "How long?" he asked softly.</p><p>"Six fat godmoons. Perhaps more. Time enough for Dee-Ann to grow and flower." Maeghara said tugging on of his godbraids. "Go now. We have much to discuss."</p><p>And so it was. Three fat godmoons later, they left. And Dee-Ann felt his water flow freely over his cheek. He felt alone. Abandoned.</p><p>Time passed. Four Godmoons became six. Six, became eight. Until finally, after ten long and lonely godmoons; she returned to him. It was as if the sun had never shined before the day Dee-Ann was summoned up the stairs and found her there. But too soon, they were gone again. Maeghara was only home for four fat godmoons before the Queen sent her on another errand. More messages from the High Godspeaker. More secrets. More honor. More gold for stupid Derubeis to delight in.</p><p>It had been almost a year. He knew this word now. There had been a few letters from the road. Instructions and wagons of merchandise and coin which had arrived. But never enough. And never any indication when they would return.</p><p>Until the last. With the Novakari Queen's nameday approaching, Dee-Ann had been overjoyed to read the news.</p><p>Maeghara was coming home!</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Yes, the opening of the chapter is an homage to two of my favorite book series. Props to anyone who correctly identifies the speaker. :P</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. .....that cuts clean to the bone.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello!!!!! I am so sorry it's been forever and two days. Covid-19 isolation forced me to move to yet another new Ship and frankly I wasn't in a head space to write. BUT! Here's the latest chapter. I hope you guys enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dee-Ann bathed himself with extra care, washing between each of his toes and letting the soap froth and bubble over his scalp twice. The slave Naga and another male slave helped him prepare before he dressed. Working a cake of hard soap between their hands, a thick layer was rubbed on his arms, his legs, his chest, over his cock and even on his stones. Next, using a very sharp blade, they proceeded to carefully scrape off the foam; removing the hair along with it. Dee-Ann was not as hairy as some others, but for beauty a man must be hairless. A fresh bucket of water was poured over his head and body once he was as smooth as a boiled egg. They did not touch the hair on his face. Dee-Ann sheared this off himself. A stupid goat slave had cut him once on his jaw. Dee-Ann had balled his hands into fists and beat the slave like a wild animal.</p><p>He dressed in thin, wide legged pantaloons that draped about his legs. His chest was left bare - as it had throughout the blistering heat of the summer - but for a short vest the color of his eyes. Around his waist, he knotted a sash of bright yellow. A black pearl hung at each ear. Maeghara had brought him many gifts when she had returned the first time. A rustling bracelet of singing beads was wrapped around each of his slender ankles, and a single band of gold adorned the second toe of each foot. Around his neck, he wore his beautiful blue amulet. His godbraids danced and sang as he turned in front of the mirror, inspecting every detail and polishing it until he shined like a jewel himself.</p><p>His heart sang and felt as if it might burst when he saw Maeghara, seated as always in her favorite chair. Derubeis was there as always, playing with the stupid Monkey. Dee-Ann walked to his usual seat, giving Maeghara his widest smile. She smiled as well, beckoning him forward so she could look at him.</p><p>"He has grown tall Rubi." she said appreciatively. Her cool fingers felt his arms, his shoulders, traced along his chest and patted his firm, flat belly. "And very beautiful." Maeghara added with a tug on his godbraids, smiling at Dee-Ann. His body lit up at her touch, and his skin sang. His nipples peaked where he stood, and in his pantaloons, his cock hung hot and heavy. The stupid tutor had explained many things about his body's flowering and the many changes his body had undergone. Pointless man. His explanations overcomplicated everything. Even simple things that needed no more explaining than air. Or the sweetness of honey. Dee-Ann had felt his body changing and known from the start. He was ripe for fucking. His cock grew hard now. His seed was ready. And soon, Maeghara would take him to husband as the Woman in the Village had taken the Man. He would seed her with daughters and they would caravan together.</p><p>He sat patiently as Maeghara and Derubeis spoke of the road, of their travels. Maeghara spoke with the Slave Ashar and spent almost a full finger reading tablets and scrolls that had been delivered while they were gone. Some, she gave to Dee-Ann to read; and smiled when he did not make one mistake.</p><p>"Very good Dee-Ann. You have pleased me. Your progress pleases the God. We must speak of your future. You are sixteen now. Your flowering is upon you." Maeghara said.</p><p>"At last. Finally we can see some return for all the coin you have cost us." groaned Derubeis. Dee-Ann ignored her. This was the moment. Maeghara would claim him. And he would belong to her forever.</p><p>"The Novakari Queen's Nameday celebrations are about to begin in earnest. She means to announce the bethrothals of three of her sons to the Warlords of Mijak. It is a time of great celebration and opportunities. For all of us. I....."</p><p>"Maeghara..." Dee-Ann said beaming. "Maeghara. I have been good. I work in the garden. I clean in the kitchen. I study with the tutor five fingers every day. I am not savage now. I read and dance. I have sweet breath and clean skin. When can I join you in the villa?"</p><p>"In the villa?" sneered Derubeis. "Not so intelligent after all Mega?"</p><p>"You sleep beneath the stairs Dee-Ann. That is your place. With the other slaves."</p><p>She did not understand. Dee-Ann linked his fingers behind his back. "Maeghara. Dee-Ann is thinking. I want to be a Trader. I want to help you in your work, and sit by your side."</p><p>At the back, Ashar dropped the tambourine he was holding. Jing jangle jangle. The monkey Hooli gave a shriek and leapt from Derubeis' grasp. Maeghara sat up slowly, her lips pinched and her eyes cool. The scorpion on her cheek twitched.</p><p>"I am not stupid Maeghara. I can learn Trader business. You have no daughter. I can be a daughter to you." he said, eager to explain. He did not say the rest. He did not say that if she asked him, he woukd spread his legs for her. That he would let her fuck him and give her daughters. He had imagined it many times. He wanted nothing more. He did not say he loved her. He did not say it. She must know. She always....</p><p>"Aaaaiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeee!!!!!" Said Derubeis and fanned her face. "It says it's not stupid, then asks to be one of us?! Mega? MEGA! Did I not warn you? Did I not tell you? Did I not say this--"</p><p>"Silence Rubi!" boomed Maeghara standing. "Dee-Ann? Are you demonstruck?!"</p><p>"Demon?" Dee-Ann whispered staring up at her dry mouthed. she was so tall. So looming. "Maeghara?"</p><p>She shook her head as though she were pained with disappointment. "You are a SLAVE Dee-Ann. I bought you with my silver coin. You were there! You saw your mother sell you to me? You are not a child of my blood! You are my property!"</p><p>Property? That could not be right. No.</p><p>NO!</p><p>He was precious.</p><p>He was no slave.</p><p>"Maeghara? How can that be true? I rode on your camel. I slept in your tent. I never wore slave chains. I have no slave braid...."</p><p>"There!"  Cried Derubeis, haughty and cross. "See what you have done? Perhaps NOW you will grant me my wish of sooooooo many godmoons over? I told you in Todorok Village! Buy it a slave braid. I told you on the road daily and nightly. Do not make of it a pet! I said from the start! And would you heed me? No you would not! You hung it in silk and jewels. And now see what has come of it. Ot has grown proud and ignorant! This stupid precious pet of yours! It does not know its place in the world!"</p><p>"Yes I am precious!" Dee-Ann said desperately. "I am Dee-Ann. I read. I write. I dance. I wear silk and linen. I am taught by a paid tutor. Your slaves are not taught! "</p><p>Maeghara sighed, bending to place her hands on his shoulders. "Dee-Ann. Listen to me. It is true, I have treated you differently. I have dressed you in fine clothes and paid a tutor to teach you. But that does not mean you are not a slave. I have done these things to increase your value."</p><p>It was a good thing she had her hands on his shoulders. He would have crumbled to pieces if she did not.</p><p>Increase his value.</p><p>You are a slave Dee-Ann.</p><p>"You will sell me...?" he whispered.</p><p>She couldn't sell him. How could she sell him? She wouldn't! He was precious! She loved him! He was sure of it! just as he loved her! He knew what love was!</p><p>Stupid Derubeis rolled her eyes. "Oh tell him Mega. Tell him what you should have told him from the beginning and end this." she moaned. With a sneer, Derubeis turned to him directly.</p><p>"Hear me. It was not fate that took us to your Godforsaken village you simpering brat. It was coin. We visited the Truthsayer and she read our futures. She told Maeghara that in that scarred, blistered lump of a Village we would find the key to unlock our Destiny. And so we have. You...will be sold to the Palace as a concubine. A gift for the Queen. A pretty bauble for her to play with, and do away with as she sees fit. We will gain access to Royal Trade Routes far richer than any we have seen before. And you....will not be our problem anymore."</p><p>*     *     *</p><p>Heart pounding, Dee-Ann glared his hate at Derubeis. If he touched her, she would burst into flame.</p><p>"See his eyes Mega! He wants to hurt me!!! I won't have him here any longer!" Derubeis squawked. "He reads now. He writes. And Mega I grant he is beautiful and dances with the God's grace. But Mega? He is a blight on this house! The other slaves despise him! He sows dischord beneath the stairs with his arrogant ways! Ask Ashar. He will tell you!"</p><p>Maeghara stood wearing a deep frown. "Am I to care what Slaves like and dislike?  Am I not MASTER in this villa?"</p><p>"You are to care if their disliking leads to unrest!" said Derubeis crossly. "Twelve other slaves we have here. All unhappy because of a thirteenth whi daily costs us hard earned coin! Is this good practice? You know it is not!"</p><p>"Slaves obey because that is what slaves do." Maeghara said.</p><p>"Are you not always the one telling me they are not brute beasts? So. Our house has never been plagued by slave mischief. But now you have forgot. You are so besotted with this wretched creature. You cannot see beyond the coin it will fetch! You say you are guided by the God. And for this you treat me as if I am not your Partner for years! I say you listen to a demon! And it stands there! Its name is Dee-Ann!"</p><p>"Tcha!" Maeghara spat, her hands balled into fists. "Speak blasphemy and the God will smite you! I am not besotted. Have I not told you over and over since we left the Village that spawned him. Dee-Ann is no ordinary slave to be bound and broken. He is a Godgift. And he will make us wealthy beyond our lifetimes. But for that to happen he must be properly ripe. Selling him now would be to waste all my careful planning. I will sell every other slave here and change linens myself before I see that happen. Would you settle for a trickle of silver, when soon he will bring a river of gold?"</p><p>If Derubeis said anything else Dee-Ann did not hear it. His body was shaking. And in his ears a terrible roaring. Raging flames to blacken the world.</p><p>It was true.</p><p>She meant to sell him.</p><p>Gold mattered to Maeghara. He did not.  He was a thing to her. Not a person. Not her precioys and beautiful Dee-Ann.</p><p>He was living, breathing, dancing gold.</p><p>He had no words. There were no words. There was only pain. Pain like the devouring of dogs.</p><p>He could not stop it. A simpering, shuddering sob slipped from his chest; drawing both Maeghara and Derubeis' attention. Maeghara sighed.</p><p>"It is a pity you misunderstood your purpose. I hope you understand it better now." she said.</p><p>"I understand. I am Maeghara's slave." Dee-Ann said. It hurt to talk. It hurt to breathe.</p><p>"Yes. Still precious. Still beautiful. But a slave." Maeghara said turning to Ashar. "Take him beneath the stairs. I do not think he will be any more trouble."</p><p>Ashar's face was solemn. But his eyes were dancing. He was laughing. He was laughing at Dee-Ann. He was pleasee to see him brought so low. "Yes Mistress. I think he knows his proper place now."</p><p>Ashar snapped his fingers at Dee-Ann idly. He flinched. Dee-Ann didn't scold him. He only followed him to the door. Five paces from it, he turned and looked back.</p><p>For the first time in years, Dee-Ann felt again like the nameless he-brat under the kitchen table. He wanted to shout. He wanted to form his hands into claws and slice her flesh. He wanted to hurt her. Kill her. Like he had wanted to kill the Woman. But this was no different. Maeghara was strong. He was weak. Nothing had changed. Maeghara was no different from the Woman.</p><p>Or any woman.</p><p>His eyes were full of pricky tears. He would die before he let them fall.</p><p>"I loved you." Dee-Ann said softly.</p><p>For a long moment they stood there, Dee-Ann's love hanging in the air between them.</p><p>"That is meaningless to me." Maeghara said turning away.</p><p>*     *     *</p><p>He followed Ashar down the stairs to the slave's place. Ashar banged the door of his room shut. Dee-Ann vomited up the remains of his highsun meal into the pishpot, then curled into a ball on the beautiful carpet. The carpet that had no doubt been paid for by the sale of other boys like him. He felt small and cold. Yet still burning hot. Derubeis had been right all along.</p><p>He was stupid.</p><p>Just a stupid, stupid he-brat who understood nothing of the world.</p><p>He laid there, silently and stubbornly refusing to cry until eventually sleep came.</p><p>In his dreams, the Woman's dogs chased him, howling and growling behind Maeghara's camel. Maeghara was not riding her camel. She was not warm and solid and reassuring behind Dee-Ann. She was riding Derubeis camel. There was Maeghara and there was Derubeis and there was the stupid monkey Hooli. They were all riding the white camel, happy and together and laughing and pointing at Dee-Ann. And the Woman's dogs were coming.</p><p>They were COMING!</p><p>"MAEGHARA!" screamed Dee-Ann, leaping up from where he was laying.</p><p>In the darkness of the chamber his breathing sounded loud. His skin was clammy with sweat, and his clothes were damp. He stripped off his vest and wiped it over his face. Pushing himself up, siover godbells sang as his heart banged against his ribs. Ashar had not given him flint and striker to light his chamber's candle. he counted 8 steps to the door, and pulled it open one finger. The hallway beyond was lit by three candles. And he could hear no sounds of slaves walking or talking. It was late then. The Quiet time.</p><p>He opened the door to let some weak light in. He walked to his bed and sat down. His head felt sore. His mouth tasted mucky. He looked around the chamber.</p><p>If he stayed in this place, Maeghara would sell him. In this place he was nothing more than a goat fattening in the slaughterhouse pen waiting for the knife. Waiting for some rich woman's coin to buy him. If he stayed here he would truly be a slave.</p><p>It did not matter that Maeghara had given the Woman coin. He was not a slave. He was not a weak, nothing person like Obid or Ashar or Naga. Not in his heart where he was his true self.</p><p>But if he stayed here he knew it would only be a matter of time before he was marked with a slave braid. And then he would be a slave. In Mijak's eyes he would be property. Even if he cut iff that slavebraid, his hair would grow back red as blood. A slave braid was given by the God. And it marked you for life.</p><p>"I have to run." he said to himself.</p><p>Shuddering, he remembered  that runaway slave in Et-Haravelle city. The sound of his babbling agony. The flies is the slashed open cavity of his belly. If he ran and was caught, that would be his fate as well. He would die in agony as that slave had died. Running was only the first part. He had to run to somewhere. Somewhere safe where he could hide and make a new life. But where?</p><p>In this city he knew Maeghara. He knew Derubeis. He knew the stupid tutor. They were the only free women he knew in all of Mijak. Except for the Woman. And he couldn't go back to the Savage East. Even if he knew how to get there. Even if he could journey so far, he never would!</p><p>That life in the Village was slavery too. The woman was poor. Maeghara was rich. Other than that, they were the same.</p><p>Aaaaaaiiiiiieeeeee! Where could he go?! Where would he be safe AND free?</p><p>Gossip in the kitchen. Slaves talking about other slaves in the Bazaar. In the Slaughter district. With tales of Et-Novakar warlord, who was also a Queen. Tales of her beautiful Palace and the city of Light.</p><p>The Woman Maeghara meant to sell Dee-Ann to.</p><p>Dee-Ann remembered those stories now. Stories of her fearsome army. Of the city within a city that was their Barracks. Home to thousands of fierce warriors and their horses. The Blacksmiths who shod those horses and made armor. The Artisans who made their weapons and crafted their leather chest pieces to keep their godspark safe. The warriors came from the far reaches of Mijak to train there. Some were slaves who lived there. Some were poor folk eeking out a living. That's what the Slaves said, gossiping in the kitchen, the laundry and working in the garden.</p><p>The Barracks of Et-Novakar. The city within a city. Surely, one he-brat could find a home and go unnoticed insude such an anthill. Maeghara would never think to look for him there? She would not. He knew it. In the Barracks of Et-Novakar he would be safe. All he had to do was reach them . He knew there were many caravans traveling to Et-Novakar for the Queen's nameday. He woukd have to find a way onto one.</p><p>Except he had learned other things from the slaves gossiping in the kitchen. Godspeakers walked the streets of Et-Banotaj during the quiet time. If he was caught by one of them, he would be punished by the God. Dee-Ann dropped to his knees on the beautiful slave bought carpet. He pressed his clenched fists to his beating heart.</p><p>"Let me leave this place. Guide me to the Barracks of Et-Novakar. Do this for me? And I will be yours. I will devote my life to you." he prayed for the first time in his entire life. "I will be Dee-Ann slave of the God."</p><p>How long he knelt there, he did not know. The God did not speak to him. Or if it did he could not hear it.</p><p>Did that mean the God was not listening? Or had the God turned its back on him? Did the God listen to the prayers of a he-brat slave? Was he not fit to serve? Was Derubeis right? Did the God not see him?</p><p>Dee-Ann remembered the stone in Et-Haravelle.</p><p>"The God sees me. It SEES me!" he said through clenched teeth. "It saw me in the Savage East. It will see me in Et-Novakar. It will. It must! I am Dee-Ann. Precious and beautiful. I was chosen by Maeghara. I was chosen by the God."</p><p>Heart still pounding, Dee-Ann sprang to action. He got off his knees. If he was leaving, it had to be now. Hid godbells sang with every step, and Ashar slept light as sadsa froth. He needed to silence them. His first thought was to cut them off. But such an act would anger the God. Pulling the sash from his waist, he tied it like a snake around his godbraids, knotting the sash behind his head. Then he crept from his chamber. He lifted the nearest candle from it's holder and walked down the passage to the kitchen. There he took one of the cook slaves' thin sharp knives. He took five small loaves of bread from the basket, and five small bricks of cheese from the bin by the stove. He took an empty flask from the pile ny the door. All the time he listened for any slave to stir. No one did. No one heard him. Safe again in his chamber, he placed the stolen items on the bed.</p><p>He searched through his clothing trunk and retrieved the plain, dark blue tunic and pantaloons Ashar had bought for him. He shed his colorful clothes and pulled them on. Next he donned his sturdiest shoes without the curly toes. He cut one leg from the discarded pantaloons abd tied a knot at the bottom. That would be his food sack. He put his food inside. The knife, he slid into his pocket.</p><p>That was it.</p><p>Unless......should he write something on one of his practice tablets to make some trouble?</p><p>His writing was not beautiful, but he knew enough symbols for this. He wrote: "Ashar say Dee-Ann bad slave. Maeghara angry. Sell Dee-Ann Trader visiting. Dee-Ann sad. Go Et-Nogolor."</p><p>Despite his pain. The knife of betrayal in his heart, Des-Ann laughed a little. He hoped Maeghara would beat that Slave till he cried. Or died.</p><p>Touching the carved blue snake around his neck, Maeghara's gift; he felt his face twist with hate. He wanted no gift from her. Or any woman. Cruel, lying Maeghara. He'd been right all along. A woman cannot touch a he-brat without hurting it. He dragged the amulet over his head  and undid the knit in its leather thong. He unthreaded the amulet. It fell from his fingers like a piece of camel shit. Ignoring it, he retrieved his carved scorpion from hiding and threaded it on the thong, retying the knot and letting it drop beneath his tunic. It was a warm weight against his skin.</p><p>He left the tablet with his message on the bed. Then gathered his food sack and crept from his chamber. Still no slave stirred. They slept as though a demon spell had been put on them. Unnoticed he ran out of the villa, into the garden, climbed the frangipani tree by the far wall; slid hand over hand along the branch that hung over the side street beyond and jumped to the cobblestones far below.</p><p>And was free.</p><p>*    *    *</p><p>Barely four streets from Maeghara's villa, flitting from shadow to shadow in the Quiet Time, his food sack bumping bruises against his leg and his heart beating so loudly he wondered the Godmoon and his wife did not hear it; he saw a Godspeaker. She was striding in the moonlight, grim and vigilant for the God. Dee-Ann stilled himself, like a lizard beneath an eagle circling overhead. His godbraids were silent in his sash. She would not hear the singing silver. But she did hear something. Her stern face was turned to the side. The Scorpion strapped to her forehead was listening. The tall staff she carried - carved like a Godpost - was listening too.</p><p>Then Dee-Ann heard what the Godspeaker heard. The sound of stumbling feet. Of voices raised in raucous whispers. Two women. Traveling late. They fell out of shadow into the light, in the mouth of an alley between two Trader villas. Their voices were thick with Cactud milk, or some other rowdy drink. And their skin was greasy around their sloppy mouths. Their robes were tied unevenly to their bodies - one's legt breast was even hanging out - and they had their arms wrapped tightly around each other as they stumbled. They saw the Godspeaker, then staggeted to a halt.</p><p>"Traders." the Godspeaker said. Her voice was soft, but it sounded loud. "The God sees you. It sees you Trader Voltek. It sees you Trader Lippa. It sees you in the street, in the quiet time."</p><p>The Traders stared at the Godspeaker, their eyes alive with fear.</p><p>"Not by choice Godspeaker. We got lost" said the Trader with her godbraids tied in a tail.</p><p>"Lost? In your own District?" The Godspeaker asked.</p><p>The other Trader nodded, scrambling to cover her naked breast. "First we got drunk Godspeaker." she said, her voice high and squeaky. "Then we got lost."</p><p>"Drunkenness offends the God. It dulls the mind and sullies the body." the Godspeaker said.</p><p>"We did not mean to drink so much. It was an accident." said the first Trader.</p><p>The Godspeaker did not answer. She just swung her Godstaff sharp and hard. It caught the Traders behind their knees and sent them sprawling on the cobblestones. They cried out in surprise and pain, wriggling onto their backs below the Godspeaker. She knelt between them, and laid her Godstaff at her side. Dee-Ann saw no anger in her face. No sorrow. No pleasure. Her face was smooth. Her eyes were calm. And terrible.</p><p>"And the God spoke to them. Between the time of working and  the time of Quiet will be the time of revelry. Where women may sing and make merry. After the revelry, then will be the Quiet time, when the streets will sleep as will the women beneath their roofs."</p><p>The Traders said nothing, as the Godspeaker's tattoos began to glow the blue green Dee-Ann remembered all too well.</p><p>"You have breached the quiet time." The Godspeaker said in an inhuman voice. "Your sin offends the God!"</p><p>She brought up her hands. Her fingers stretched wide, and they glowed with that same blue green fire. She touched her burning palms to their faces, and they screamed in pain. They made weeping noises like he-babies on the Anvil. They writhed and flailed on the ground even as the Godspeaker spoke again.</p><p>"The God smites you. It leaves its mark upon you. For your folly, for one fat Godmoon no woman will speak to you or Trade with you. No man will spread his legs for you. You will kneel before every Godpost in the city. And as you kneel you will weep tears of blood in your pain and your sorrow, as the godsmite in your faces cleanses you of sin. You will eat bread and you will drink water. All other food and drink will drop you dead. Traders. You are smitten!" she said releasing their faces.</p><p>Dee-Ann suppressed a cry, as the Scorpion bound to the Godspeaker's forehead flared bright crimson; and the smitten Traders did cry out. The glow faded from the Godspeaker's tattoos. Her Scorpion fades to black, and she took up her Godstaff; rizing with graceful ease. On the Traders' faces her white hot handprint pulsed in time with their frantic gasps for air.</p><p>"Get up" she said. "Begin your Godpost pilgrimage at newsun. And remember, The God will know if even one post remains Untouched by your penitent tears. It will kill you in its Eye. You will fall down dead in the street where you stand."</p><p>Moaning, the smitten Traders found their feet and quickly ran down the street. From his hiding Shadows across the street, Dee-Ann heard them sobbing their pain for all the world to hear. His mouth was dry. The Godspeaker in the Village had never punished wickedness so. Her punishment for things had been stones. Stones. Always stones. She did not have a hand of Power. This Godspeaker of Et-Bajadek....aaaaiiiiieeeee the God truly saw her in its eye. Shaking her head, the godspeaker turned to continue her walking. As she moved, her terrible gaze swept across the street and the patch of shadow where Dee-Ann was hiding. She stopped. On her brow, her black scorpion waited. Dee-Ann's breath ended. She had seen him. She had SEEN him?!</p><p>She would beat him to the ground! She would put her hand of power on his cheek and her smiting would burn him to Cinders and Ash! Forever and ever she held him in her eye. Forever and ever she looked at him.</p><p>The Godspeaker turned. She walked away.T</p><p>Dee-Ann waited Until she was completely gone before he allowed himself to breathe. "The God sees me. The God sees me in its eye. It grants me my prayers. It hides me."</p><p>Exultant and giddy Dee-Ann left the shadows and danced in the middle of the street. Precious and Beautiful in the God's eye.</p>
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<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Warp and weft</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“It is said that the night of the Great Betrayal – and House Novakar fell root and stem – that the Scorpion Pectoral of the High Godspeaker cracked in two and fell to the ground. A clear sign of the God’s anger. It is said the deathcries of the slaughtered continued well into the night. How else? When not a single woman, man or child within the shining Palace; was spared the knife. All the thousands of Warriors, Nobles and Slaves – equal in the black eyes of the invaders – mown down like wheat. Nor was a single camel, horse or chicken left alive. To this day and until the end of time; it remains one of the most brutal attacks this world has ever known. In Godhouses throughout the land, all the offerings and sacrifices for an entire Godmoon were rejected by the God and remained in the godbowls turned to maggot ridden filth. The God did not speak to them, and in the silence many Godspeakers went mad and killed themselves. And in the sky above what had been Et-Novakar, the Godmoon burned bright red. A sign to all who had eyes to see that the world would never be the same.”</p><p>Excerpt from the Dawn of the Sword Age</p><p>-Princess Kla’ara of Et-Novakar.</p><p>Castiel rolled his neck from side to side, feeling the little bones slot into place with a satisfying crack. After shuddering awake the fourth time from yet more nightmares that abandoned him upon waking, he’d given up; wrapped himself in his favorite shawl and poured himself a generous glass of wine. Walking out onto the balcony, he found himself staring off into nothing. Overhead, the sky blushed slowly; before eventually turning the color of an old bruise. As the night faded and slowly surrendered to the day, the city beneath him seemed almost to exhale. A thin breeze whistling in over the mountain. It sighed its way through the glooming balconies, courtyards and expanding pools of shadow linking the labyrinth of alleys that made up the cross section of areas surrounding the palace. The draft danced between buildings and through darkened hearths; releasing with it the smell of the city. Mortar. Pitch. People. Smoke. Even at this hour the market below still tasted faintly of a strange mix of burning oil, incense and too many different cooking fires. All combining to make the air taste of dank and rust. Like blood. Countless torches and gas lamps – strung across streets in every imaginable color – paper lanterns, painted signs and umpteen miles of ceremonial flags swayed heavily in the draft as they flickered. All swaying, groaning, creaking. Mourning.</p><p>Looking out over the city, the lightening sky above the scattered buildings of the business district seemed somehow…threatening. Not by a storm, for it was far too late in the season for that. No. This sky was filled with a kind of foreboding. As he stared, his skin erupted in goose flesh as he was gripped by a breathless feeling that told him he was under threat. But from what?</p><p>‘It’s the dawn.’ He thought. ‘I hate the sunrise.’</p><p>Turning his back on the soon to be rising sun, Castiel dug his hands into his nightdress and pulled the thin golden chain free. Dangling on it was the golden charm from that night at the Harrowspex. He turned its familiar weight over in his hands. The strange, horned little face stared back at him, its expression as intractable as ever. He sighed. The Harrowspex had warned him to keep it close to him always; else the consequences would be dire.</p><p>He scoffed as he tucked it back under his nightdress and drained the last of his wine. Dire indeed. Almost three years to the day since he’d let Gabriel talk him into her heretical nonsense. And for what?</p><p>*     *     *</p><p>If he’d expected some dramatic event to occur in the days immediately after he’d snipped her little thread…he was destined to be disappointed. He and Gabriel – who had been waiting for him just outside the Harrospex’s shop – made their way as quickly and as silently as they could back to the Palace.</p><p>What part of his mind was rational and logical, told Castiel that it had all been naught but a bit of rather gruesome; but very well executed theater. The kind of base drek one could expect from foreign peasants seeking to scratch out a living in horrid conditions in the city. And Castiel had no doubt Gabriel had crossed her palm with more than a little gold for the effort.</p><p>But then there was the other part. That part of his mind that knew what it was to bend light. That had dreamt of that….thing….and still felt ever more sure that it was all somehow tied together. He also knew one other thing. That deep down, he really wanted it to be true. He desperately wanted the Harowspex’ power to be real.</p><p>Because that meant he wasn’t losing his mind. And more. If whatever spell or ritual she’d cast was real and true…it meant he wouldn’t have to marry that horrible woman.  </p><p>Even his other project had suffered due to his distracted mind. Tran had managed to lay his hands on fresh rolls of parchment detailing his Mother’s various political alliances. They all still lay on his desk untouched where Tran had put them.</p><p>Tran was another issue. In the days since Castiel had visited the Harrowspex, he’d grown ever more curt and even sulky. After three days of pointed sighs and cutlery being thrown around on plates, Castiel had had enough.</p><p>“Alright out with it. I give up. What’s wrong with you?” he asked one morning after he’d finished dressing. Just a simple shift. He wasn’t planning on leaving his rooms that day.</p><p>“What do you mean?” Tran asked not meeting his eyes as he went about gathering up discarded clothing items and carefully folding Castiel’s favorite shawl.</p><p>“Oh please.” Castiel said pushing both hands through his hair. “You’ve practically been gnashing your teeth at me for days. Now I have tried to….” He continued then lost his temper when Tran still refused to look at him. “…oh sit down please.”</p><p>Tran complied.</p><p>“Tell me. What’s wrong?” Castiel asked putting his hand on Tran’s knee. For a second Tran’s features twisted with some nameless emotion, before he seemed to take hold of himself and finally looked up to meet Castiel’s gaze. His eyes seemed poised somewhere between rage and deep sadness. It was disappointment, he realized. In him.</p><p>“I can’t tell you.” Tran said softly. “But I can show you.”</p><p>*     *     *</p><p>Castiel had been surprised to be ushered into his closet and wrapped up in his plainest pair of plain black riding trousers and a simple tunic of thick grey wool. It was part of a riding costume that Castiel had never worn on account that the fabric scratched and it was too bulky and plain for his tastes. With Tran’s help, his hair was coiled and wrapped in a headscarf and Castiel donned his cloak again from the other night. It was as close to ordinary as he was likely to get.</p><p>“Where do we go?” he asked, for by now it was clear the intent was for them to leave the Palace.</p><p>“Meet me at the Lover’s Gate.” Tran said. “Do you remember how to get there?”</p><p>“I can find it.” Castiel said with more confidence than he felt. But Tran was speaking to him again so he would take what he could get at the moment. “What about you?”</p><p>“I’ll go out the Slave gate and meet you there.” Tran said, picking up a tortoise shell comb and smashing it on the ground. Castiel gaped at him.</p><p>“What has gotten into you?! That’s one of my favorite combs!” he snapped.</p><p>“Exactly! Which is why when your clumsy body servant dropped it while he was dressing you, you instantly dispatched him to the Artisan district to have it mended.” Tran said cocking an eyebrow. “I need a credible reason for why I’m leaving the grounds this time of the day.”</p><p>“You could have just asked.” Castiel said still smarting. “I have a hideous blue one Gabriel foisted on my for my nameday that you could’ve smashed into a million pieces.”</p><p>After that they were off. Castiel waited anxiously next to the door until the guards patrolling the halls had finished their rounds, and quickly dashed down the halls and into the servant’s staircase they’d taken the other night. He lost his way more often than he would’ve liked to have admitted. A fact compounded by being unable to ask for any directions. He drew his hood down low over his face lest any of the slaves should recognize him. But in the end he found himself in the dreary stone tunnel that eventually brought him to the Lover’s Gate. Tran peeped around the corner a few minutes later, still bearing the broken comb in a bit of silk he’d wrapped it in.</p><p>It was curious that – as a Body Servant – Tran could leave the Palace but Castiel – a Prince of the Blood – could not.</p><p>“Now where are we going?” Castiel asked as they stepped out onto the street. It was thrilling to be out in the daytime. It was early, but the streets were already crammed with people ad all manner of activity that to Castiel looked absolutely fascinating.</p><p>“Did you bring any money?” Tran asked.</p><p>“What?” Castiel asked frowning. “No.”</p><p>It was true. He wasn’t even sure whether he owned a coin purse. He didn’t see the need to explain to Tran that he’d never actually bought anything in his entire life.</p><p>Tran pulled a face and reached into his own pocket. “You’re paying me back.” He said producing a gold coin and leading the way into the streets. Castiel cursed the hood as he trotted after Tran. His hems were going to be filthy after this, and he could barely see anything going on around him. He doubted – unpainted and dressed so blandly – the likelihood that anyone would recognize him on sight. But he thought it best not to risk it until they were a little farther from the Palace proper.</p><p>“I’m hailing us a coach. We have a long way to go. And even in those shoes I doubt you could walk it.” Tran said casting his eyes to Castiel’s feet. He frowned but didn’t say anything. His boots were sturdy camel leather, the low heels wide and reinforced with a bit of metal at the base. He’d rather thought they were just the thing for the occasion. But of course, there was no point in arguing. Big as the Palace was, Castiel didn’t often do much walking in a day. And every step away from the familiar grounds was a step they’d eventually have to take back.</p><p>Tran stopped next to a Godpost and seemed to be scanning the streets looking for something. Two empty coached rolled by, but for some reason Tran did not hail them down. Castiel took the opportunity to look around. They were next to a shop selling what looked like imported wood and leather items. His eyes were drawn to a particularly charming figurine of two lovers embracing, when Tran tapped him on the shoulder. Apparently he’d finally settled on a coach that was to his liking, and Castiel had to suppress a groan.</p><p>It was a flat block of wood set atop four plain wheels, its black paint chipping in places to reveal that it had once been painted orange underneath. The driver was a heavyset woman of indeterminate age. Her face was ruddy and the thick clump of godbraids peeking out beneath a cap on her head was streaked with silver. The horse drawing the carriage was a mixed breed and looked quite old. Seeing his hesitation, Tran nudged him into the carriage, offering his hand so Castiel wouldn’t have to avail himself of the rusted bar screwed into the door. When they had clambered in and settled themselves the seats inside smelled of dust and mold.</p><p>“Tran I have already agreed to I’d pay you back for whatever costs we incur. Couldn’t we have gotten one a bit nicer than…this?” Castiel asked pressing his gloved hand to his nose. He didn’t relish the prospect of identifying just what the smell was emanating from the corner.</p><p>“Not a good idea. Believe me, where we’re going; you don’t want to be flashing your wealth.” Tran said pulling the window shutters tight.</p><p>*     *     *</p><p>The journey took the better part of an hour, and Castiel was utterly lost. He’d managed to sneak a few peeks out through he shutters, but Tran insisted it wasn’t a good idea. Evidently they were traveling deep into the Bone Slums. When Tran finally tapped on the roof of the coach, Castiel was eager to get out. Only to instantly wish he could get back in. The coach had hardly been luxurious, but it was nothing compared to what waited outside.</p><p>The tip of his boot snagged on a stone hidden by the mud – for these streets were unpaved – and stepping around a puddle, Castiel gathered his cloak around him. Giving the street a cursory glance, his first thought was that it was a ruin; the tenants of the buildings having left long ago. All the buildings were made of weather stained wood, no more than two stories high. And all the window shutters were drawn. Castiel had no earthly idea what purpose they served. There wasn’t even a stray dog. He let a short huff of air escape through his nose as he turned to try and where they were in relation to the Palace. It was far behind them, and he all but gawked at it. He’d never been far enough away to see it from this angle.</p><p>“Come on. We shouldn’t linger here.” Tran said softly once the coach was out of sight. Castiel followed, still looking around the street. It was empty. Dead quiet. But not the natural stillness of the quiet time or a holiday. This was an abiding desolation that seemed to have settled over the entire area. As if it had been abandoned in lieu of some kind of political disaster. Or plague.</p><p>But as he looked closer, he could see laundry hung out to dry on the upper levels of the moldering buildings. People actually lived here. He drew his head deeper into the hood. It was daytime. And none of these buildings were particularly high, but somehow, the street seemed to have a sense about it. Like the buildings on either side of the street formed together into a canopy, preventing the sun from penetrating all the way to the ground.</p><p>“Light see me. Where are we Tran?” he asked.</p><p>“This is the outer rim. Mostly work houses and the like. It’s where people end up when they have nowhere else to go.” He said.</p><p>“How do you know that?” Castiel asked.</p><p>“All slaves know this place.” Tran said almost wistfully, and not for the first time, Castiel wondered about those unsaid things behind Tran’s eyes.</p><p>Tran led him through a series of dismal back alleys until the eventually came to a kind of courtyard where a man – clothed in little better than rags – was doling out bowls of dubious looking gruel to a copse of children. They varied in age, but none were older than ten. They were all filthy, and it became clear that they were on break from working in one of the work houses that pocked the area.</p><p>“Who are they?” Castiel asked.</p><p>“War orphans mostly. Some of them are bastards from Noblewomen who frequent the Pleasure District. Same old story.” Tran said flatly.</p><p>“That’s horrible.” Castiel said because he didn’t know what else to do.</p><p>“Life is hard around here. But we’re not here for them. Look.” Tran pointed out a particular little boy towards the back of the line. “His name is Lu-Cas. His father was forced to sell him to this work house. His Sister recently died. She worked at the tannery to support the family. She also had a fondness for gambling.”</p><p>“What will happen to him?” Castiel asked pointing his chin at the boy.</p><p>“Depends. He’ll probably get sick. Pox is most likely. Most of those children won’t live to see puberty. If Lu-Cas grows up pretty enough, he might escape this place to become a whore. But who knows? He might be one of the lucky ones. And some nice noblewoman will see him and take him for a slave. Most likely the work will kill him. They’ll throw his corpse in the river with the rest of the trash and that’ll be that.” Tran said. His voice was light, nonchalant. But it was clear there was real bile rising in his heart.</p><p>Castiel stood in horror. It was probably the most awful thing he could imagine. What a horrible life. He sighed, turning away from the poor boy.</p><p>“I feel for him. Truly I do. For all of them. But I have to ask Tran…..why are you telling me this? Why have you brought me here?” he asked. “To horrify me with his plight?”</p><p>“It ought to horrify you.” Tran said. “You killed his Sister.”</p><p>*     *     *</p><p>They were sitting in a Tavern not far from the work house. Tran had all but had to carry him since Castiel had practically collapsed. His head was still spinning and he didn’t trust himself not to fall out of the corner booth he was currently sitting in.</p><p>“Here.” Tran said returning from the bar with two tankards in his hands.</p><p>“What is it?” Castiel asked, his voice a little rough as he peered into the tankard. It was milky white and warm, but smelled strongly of alcohol.</p><p>“They call it Tiger’s Milk. Sip it slowly. It’s very strong. My mother swore by it as a restorative.”  Tran said taking a sip himself. “It was also my Father’s secret recipe for when we were sick.”</p><p>Castiel gasped as soon as the liquid hit his tongue. It felt as if someone had sucked all the air out of his lungs and he choked powerfully. For the next few moments, he panted like a dog trying to recover himself. Tran for his part seemed to be finding this spectacle quite entertaining. Castiel glared at him.</p><p>“His secret…is he pissed in it.” He said soliciting another chuckle.</p><p>“You’ll get used to it.” Tran said going for another sip.</p><p>“Tran. Enough now. Tell me.” Castiel said seriously, still reeling from Tran’s words back at the work house.</p><p>“It’s true. It is like I said. Lu-Cas’ sister had a fondness for betting on the bones, and gambling at cards. She incurred debts, and ran afoul of some very bad people.” Tran explained. “This far from the Palace, there are hardly any Godspeakers to consult or Warriors to keep the peace. So as usually happens, she went to the local Harrowspex for assistance.”</p><p>“You mean….” Castiel asked.</p><p>“Yes. The same one you went to.” Tran affirmed. “The witch managed to settle her debt. Whether by coin or by favors I don’t know. Either way, the thing played out the way they always do. Lu-Cas’ sister had only transferred her debt. Instead of thugs, she was now indebted to something altogether much worse.”</p><p>“You can’t mean she killed her…..” Castiel whispered.</p><p>“She owed her life. And when the time came….the Harrowspex collected.” Tran said. There was no sympathy in his voice. And it was clear he was quite angry at Castiel.</p><p>“But how…..you helped me go there. You knew where Gabriel was taking me.” Castiel barked.</p><p>“For a fortune! I thought the poisonous old bitch would clack some bones together. Maybe slaughter a rat or a fox and that would be the end of it. I never imagined you would be stupid enough to accept a blood curse from her.” Tran said shaking his head.</p><p>“But….she told me……it was a Raven. And my seed. She never….” Castiel sputtered pulling back the hood. He was too hot and he was freezing at the same time.</p><p>“Of course she didn’t tell you. Two perfumed princes in her shop. It was the chance of a lifetime. She’d never have risked having you walk out.” Tran said ruefully.</p><p>“Light see me. What have I done………? When did you know?” Castiel asked.</p><p>“The next morning when you bathed. I saw the amulet. And when you told me your version of what had happened…it wasn’t difficult to fill in the rest.” Tran drained his tankard. “You got your new life. All it cost was Lu-Cas his. His sister is dead. His father will no doubt soon follow.”</p><p>“I’ll see that Witch roasted on a spit. I’ll drag her before the Godspeaker myself.” Castiel said through gritted teeth.</p><p>“For doing what you asked?” Tran put in.</p><p>“For murder!” Castiel countered.</p><p>“One dead peasant? You think a Godspeaker will trouble herself over that? She’ll kill her on the spot.” Tran said.</p><p>“Light willing!” Castiel said with a nod.</p><p>“And then what?” Tran asked. “Will that give Lu-Cas his sister back? Hmm? What would her death serve? To soothe your conscience perhaps. But what more? Look around you. Look where you are. The Light doesn’t reach here. These people depend on her. As repugnant as you or I might find what she does, she serves a very necessary purpose here.”</p><p>“Well I have to do something for him. We’ll take him out of that place. We’ll bring him back to the Palace with us. Today. I’m sure there’s a place for him. In the Kitchens. Or in the Keep.” Castiel suggested hopefully.</p><p>“You would make of him a slave?” Tran asked.</p><p>“I would give him a life. Get him off the streets. I can’t change what happened, but I can at least prevent him from ending his days as a whore. Or worse. Surely living in safety, with a full belly and a fair wage is better than leaving him in that horrible…..” Castiel said but Tran interrupted.</p><p>“But as a slave.” Tran asked desperately. “As property. To be beaten and ordered around and fucked at the mercy of others? To see any hope or dreams of a better life vanish into a red braid? Think of what you are saying. You have no idea what it is like to be a slave in this world. It is true, his life is going to be hard. You saw to that. But at least free he has a chance. He could marry. He could have children…..” Tran broke off, closing his eyes for a moment. “Your way would see his entire family vanish from this world. As if he’d never existed at all.”</p><p>And there it was. As he listened, he realized that Tran’s anger stemmed from what Castiel had unwittingly done to Lu-Cas. But more than that. He was angry for himself.</p><p>“I’m sorry Tran.” Castiel whispered.</p><p>“I know.” Tran said taking Castiel’s hand when he offered it. “And you’re right. Of course the boy will be better off in the Palace. I’ll arrange it.”</p><p>“Thank you.” Castiel said. “I’ll see to it that he becomes one of Gabriel’s Body Servants. He might be eccentric. But Gabriel isn’t cruel. At least that way I’ll know the boy won’t be abused.”</p><p>Something shifted in the air between them then. Like a string on a balliset slotting into a well worn groove. And Castiel felt without having to be told that at least some of Tran’s anger had left him. At least for now. His heart still felt unbelievably heavy though. For the boy. For the sister who’d given her life for his. And for Tran. His friend and confidant who he knew so little.</p><p>“We should be getting back. People might start to wonder.” Tran said, still holding his hand as he led them out of the Tavern.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Tran</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Castiel went through the motions of his morning prayers. Lighting bunches of incense and throwing a fresh log onto the fire. The room was cold, or perhaps it was merely imagined. He installed himself in front of the polished mirror. It was a relatively new addition to the antechamber next to his closet. But tradition demanded that once he came of age that he be gifted a mirror. This one was a large disc of brass floating like a rising sun between the outstretched wings of two kneeling angels. Its surface was polished to a high shine so he could see his reflection. Even though he looked less and less like himself every day when he looked into it.</p><p>He’d grown into his length of bone, and after a particularly disastrous summer when his skin had been ravaged by puberty – and he’d been subjected to daily treatments at the hand of his Mima to try and tame the flames that scorched his cheeks and shoulders – his skin had cleared to a milky alabaster untouched by the sun. He drew a camel hair brush through the length of his hair, which seated as he was fell almost to the floor. It kissed the back of his thighs when he stood and remained his pride and joy.</p><p>He had kept his promise to Gabriel and had thrown himself into the tutelage of his Masters in music and dance. More skills had followed as time wore on. All aimed at making of him a better groom for his….betrothed.</p><p>He watched his own face twist into a grimace of disgust and instantly schooled his features. He would have to get a lot better at hiding his feelings if he was to face the next few weeks. There would be delegations aplenty from every corner of Mijak, anxiously scrutinizing his every move for a kernel of gossip. The messenger from Li-Illitur who had arrived the month before to deliver her Troth Idol had caused a stir already.</p><p>Castiel had never seen such a woman. Tall and powerful, her face – which had been the only skin visible – had been scarred by so many battles and tattooed with so many enchantments that Castiel could scarce have imagined what she might have looked like once. She had appeared dressed in armor unlike anything he’d ever imagined. It may once have been iron or steel, but it was almost impossible to determine for – as she had explained at the celebration banquet Castiel’s Mother had thrown for the occasion – everything she wore had been painted again and again in the blood of those she had slain before being lacquered to keep the blood from rotting and corroding the steel. Even more horrifying, was that in places her armor boasted actual human bones, cleaned and dipped in molten metal to make them strong. From skulls too small to have belonged to anything but children, to ribs and finger bones worked into all manner of places along her body. It was as gruesome as it was terrifying. Castiel would never forget her breastplate. Carefully hammered to resemble a human face, eternally screaming in agony; real teeth had been worked into the open mouth. And he was certain that he’d seen pieces of an actual skull slotted in among the rest. She’d seen him looking, and mistaking horror for interest; she had taken great care in explaining to him some of the more disgusting practices these……people……partook in with great gusto upon winning a victory.</p><p>She had been one woman alone. But it had been enough of a glimpse into the culture House Sha-Tan fostered in the west. Kufu – the eternal fool – had ventured to ask about this supposed Blood God they were rumored to worship in the West. The woman - who called herself Ardat – had simply shrugged and brushed off the comment, saying only that their culture was very old and that they had brought many gods with them from the old world.</p><p>Castiel shuddered. That had been months ago. But Ardat had assured his mother that Li-Illitur would be in attendance for her nameday celebrations. Angrily, he reached into his dress and gripped the horned necklace from the Harrowspex. He held it in his hand for a moment before ripping the chain from around his neck. He squeezed it in his fist before – cursing himself for a fool – sending it flying across the room.</p><p>His features looked slightly drawn from lack of sleep. His Mima wouldn’t be pleased when he arrived. He reached for a pot of cream, cleverly painted to look like a desert beetle, and dipped his fingers into it to spread the rose colored stuff over his face. His hands smoothed over his sharp cheekbones, down his family’s nose and over his prominent chin. The effect was almost instantaneous. If not exactly well rested, at least his skin didn’t look quite so ashen anymore. And the cream smelled faintly of winter peaches, which was his favorite scent. A different pot no larger than his thumbnail held a drop of oil mixed with gold dust. This he dabbed onto the fullness of his lips and into the very inner corners of his eyes – their blueness hanging like open wounds above all his other features. The hint of shimmer was pleasing. He packed away the pots. He was hardly skilled with his own face, but it would serve until the Mima could paint him properly before he had to be seen.</p><p>Opening one of the little drawers worked cleverly into the underside of the table that bore his mirror, he took out the tiny bundle of silk which still held the ruined shards of the comb Tran had broken that day.</p><p>He allowed himself a small sigh that was somewhere between a sob and a smile.</p><p>That day. Those two young people. And the world they had lived in. Where had they gone?</p><p>*     *     *</p><p>The weeks following their visit to the Outer Rim were extremely difficult for Castiel. He’d taken to his bed for nearly three days, unable to bring himself to eat for the guilt and anguish he felt over what he had done to that boy. That Gabriel - who had been visibly shaken but hardly as guilt ridden as Castiel – had assured him that they boy was acclimating nicely to life in the Palace, had done nothing to allay his suffering.</p><p>It was Tran who had eventually all but dragged him bodily out of bed and into a hot bath, assuring him that slow suicide by starvation would serve no one.</p><p>To Castiel it seemed, once he’d agreed to stop punishing himself; that he was never allowed any time for such self reflection again. Between endless classes and practice sessions with his various Masters; his schedule – now that he was older – began to include an all but endless array of “duties” which he, as a Prince of the Blood was expected to fulfill. These ranged from menial things like visiting the kitchens and stirring a large copper pot filled with spiced oil to signify the beginning of a Feast Day; to more official duties like overseeing novitiate Godspeakers performing morning sacrifice in the Keep; and even stamping his personal seal onto requests from various lesser nobles to approve betrothals for their children.</p><p>Most of it was tedious. And Castiel suspected that the duties left to him were little more than busy work that none of the other members of his Blood wished to do themselves. But it filled his days and – having seen the squalor some people lived in less than an hour’s journey from where he slept – he attempted to perform even the most menial of tasks to the best of his ability.</p><p>Things gradually returned to normal between him and Tran. And for that, he was most grateful. They resumed speaking like friends, and less like a Master and a Slave. However with this return to intimacies came another issue. As Castiel’s body continued to mature and to change, he began to notice things in ways he never had before. In particular the way that Tran had changed as well. At eighteen he was a proper man now. And a rather attractive one at that. He would never be a tall man, though from what Castiel understood this was not so very uncommon for his people. But his shoulders were broad and beneath the tight seal of his skin, his muscles were well rounded. His pitch black godbraids reached past his shoulder blades and his face – which still retained a certain boyishness in his features – was quite exotic with his catlike eyes.</p><p>If he’d been a courtier he would’ve been long since married by now.</p><p>His appreciation of Tran’s appearance however had settled over him like a lead shawl. He didn’t know the exact date or even the exact moment. But at some point along the journey Castiel had become aware that those dusky thoughts and sweet nighttime pleasures which had bubbled up within him…..were not fueled by women.</p><p>The knowledge terrified him. Both because he knew he was to marry. But more because he realized as well that Tran seemed to be similarly inclined. As evident by the warmth in those beautiful slanted eyes every time he looked at him, as by his ever questing fingers while he and Castiel were bathing. It had become a kind of dance between them. Tran attempting to further their acquaintance through seemingly innocent touches and strokes while they were naked in the bath; and Castiel fighting every instinct in his body and especially his cock; not to let him.</p><p>Several times Tran had openly displayed his own hard cock when they were naked together, and even went so far as to place Castiel’s hand on it. Light see him, Castiel had been everything but disgusted by the unbelievably curious hardness beneath the silken skin. Nor did he find anything repulsive in the feeling of Tran’s nimble fingers working along his own.</p><p>But he’d put a stop to it every time.</p><p>He couldn’t do that with Tran. He simply couldn’t. Tran’s words that day in the Tavern still lashed at him like a whip.</p><p>Whatever else they were to each other; Tran was – in the eyes of the world – his Slave. They didn’t have a friendship. They had a transaction. And as much as his cock would give him no peace; he refused to become one of those people. Thinking only of himself and his own desires was what had killed Lu-Cas’s sister as much as the Harrowspex. And even if Tran appeared to be willing – and could put up a mighty sulk every time he felt rebuffed – Castiel refused to let his selfish desires ruin another life.</p><p>After their most recent dance, which had left Castiel breathing hard and forced to order everyone out of his chambers so he could attend to his aching cock himself before dressing; Castiel felt the urge to do something nice for Tran….that didn’t involve any blurring of the lines between them.</p><p>The opportunity came a scant few weeks ago. Castiel had ordered a special meal to be prepared for him and sent up to his rooms before dismissing his retinue for the night. Tran had appeared with the salvers and arranged them on the low table in front of the fire with some disdain. It was quite evident that this meal was meant for two. And if he was trying to his displeasure at the prospect of Castiel taking a lover; he was failing.</p><p>Castiel locked the door to his chambers and motioned for Tran to sit down. He was rewarded with a look of pure confusion, and it made him giggle.</p><p>“You didn’t think I’d forgotten did you?” Castiel asked. Tran still looked utterly lost. “Happy nameday Tran.”</p><p>At this Tran’s eyes had lit up and he’d practically launched himself at Castiel and dragged him in for a hug. He may have allowed the embrace to go on just a moment too long, before settling in himself and the two of them attacked the array of food laid out in front of them. The night stretched on into the small hours and both of them were quite drunk by the time Castiel proclaimed it was time for bed. There was no way Tran could be seen walking the halls in his current state so Castiel determined he’d just have to sleep in his closet on the soft divan there; and sneak out in the morning.</p><p>Castiel caught Tran short of stumbling, unable to keep from chuckling. “I hope you’ve enjoyed your nameday?”</p><p>“My last. I’m tired of living. I’m going to stop.” Tran said with a slurring smile.</p><p>“Rubbish.” Castiel said chuckling again. “You’re planning something special for the Queen’s nameday. You told me so yourself.”</p><p>“Yeeeeeeeeeeees, I remember.” Tran said. “But I won’t see you.” He continued in a sing songy voice. “Kiss me.” He said taking two handfuls of Castiel’s skirts and pulling him close so they were face to face. His back was against the wall and Castiel balanced himself by placing both hands on either side of Tran’s shoulders.</p><p>“Go to sleep Tran.” He said.</p><p>“Kiss me goodbye Castiel.” Tran said taking his face in his hands. His skin was warm and smooth, and his fingers threaded neatly into his hair.</p><p>“Goodnight Tran. Sleep well.” Castiel breathed, turning his head in the cage of Tran’s fingers so he could press his lips to his palm.</p><p>Tran’s placid expression exploded into one of unmitigated rage, tearing his hands free as if Castiel had burned him. “No! On my mouth!” he barked. “Kiss me on my mouth like we were lovers!”</p><p>Castiel reared back in shock. “Tran! Control yourself! I am your friend, but I am….as you subtly enjoy pointing out to me…..your Master.”</p><p>“A friend?! Tcha! You’re not a man or a Master. You’re some impotent, useless thing that doesn’t know how to be either.” Tran said pulling his mouth into a hard line, before his entire face collapsed into despair and he drove both palms into his eyes. Eyes which Castiel could now see were filled with tears.</p><p>Castiel let go of his breath. Tran was drunk. He was just drunk. He didn’t know what he was saying. But it was obvious he was in some kind of pain. And without words Castiel knew he was to blame. He made sure he pitched his voice softly when he spoke again.</p><p>“You’re wrong. I know how to be a man. But to be a man on your terms is to be no friend. And certainly no fair master. And I have chosen to be your friend.” He said trying to articulate something he’d never allowed himself to ponder too deeply.</p><p>If he’d hoped his words would soothe Tran’s stinging, drunken emotions he was dead wrong. Tran’s shoulders hitched as if he were going to vomit. And when he pulled his hands away his expression was ruthless and cruel.</p><p>“With the free will your God of Light has given us?” Tran’s expression was one of such disgust and ridicule that Castiel was sure he’d never seen its like. “Well let me tell you Master…..” he spat the word. “….with that same free will, I have chosen to destroy you. You and every other Master who lives to rich and take whatever you want and leave nothing for the rest of us.” Tran all but growled. Castiel felt his chest tighten and he realized his own eyes were filling with unshed tears.</p><p>“Tran….” He whispered squaring his shoulders. Drunk or not. Hurt or not. He was not going to let Tran keep speaking to him like this.</p><p>“Oh I know! I’ll go to hell for it of course….But it’ll be nothing compared to the hell they’re have planned for you.” He said stepping forward and looking as if he might falter. Castiel put out his hand and Tran caught it, gripping onto it like a drowning man. His expression turned desperate for a moment, as if he might give himself over to tears. But he seemed to take hold of himself.</p><p>“It’s yourself you’ll destroy with this everlasting hatred of yours.” Castiel said, pressing his cheek to Tran’s sweaty hair.</p><p>“When your father fled the capital after your mother bore another man’s child? Is it because he loved her or because he hated her?” Tran asked stepping back so he could look into Castiel’s eyes. His voice was challenging, but Castiel could hear the emotion behind it. So now they were coming to it. But surely Tran couldn’t mean…..</p><p>“You don’t love me.” Castiel said frowning. “You’re just dru….”</p><p>“<strong>I have always loved you!!!</strong>” Tran cut in. “From the first day I saw you. Your smile. Your laugh. So much so I would’ve killed you for not wanting me!” he practically shouted. He gave two shuddering sobs before steeling himself with a breath.</p><p>“But I found a better method.” He said in a voice so soft Castiel could barely hear him.</p><p>“No. Not love. I’m a reminder of the life you could’ve had. Maybe even the life you SHOULD have had, and never will. That’s all. I’m a reminder of what you can no longer be.” Castiel said. He felt sick. He wanted to go.</p><p>“Let me tell you something Prince Castiel.” Tran said pushing off from him so he could drive his index finger into Castiel’s chest. “About lives that should’ve been and that God of yours….” He said bobbing his head and widening his eyes as he spoke.</p><p>“That vengeful God who dangles everything I ever wanted in front of me……then ruins our bodies and leaves us with only enough wit for regret.” He said grabbing his braids and waggling his blood red slave braid at Castiel. “Beneath this stupid slave braid, inside the stupid body I am still whole!” he said slamming his fist into his chest.</p><p>“I still <em>feel</em>! I still <em>want</em>! I still <strong>dream</strong>!” Tran said openly crying now. “<em><strong>And I still love you!!!</strong></em> Oh God how much?!” he all but shouted.</p><p>With this last, all fight seemed to leave him. And Castiel had to bodily ease him to the ground while Tran cried. Too many emotions warred inside him at once. So instead of speaking, he simple let Tran hug his legs; before finally after a minute or so…Tran pushed himself to his feet and was gone.</p><p>Castiel watched him go, then stayed sitting there on the cold stone floor for a long time.</p><p>*_*_*_*_*_*_*</p><p>The next morning Castiel got out of his bed with a heavy heart. He knew Tran was already awake because he’d heard him walking around in the room. It was tempting to write it all off as just a drunken rant. And if Tran tried to pretend that it was, then Castiel would pretend with him. But he knew it wasn’t. And whether it would be positive or negative, he knew their friendship would never be the same again.</p><p>The second however that he reached the bottom of the ladder, he knew something was wrong. Very wrong.</p><p>On the cold stone floor next to the discarded plates and glasses from the night before were a heap of godbraids, shorn off with one of the knives from dinner. And next to them, lay the scarlet slave braid. Castiel gasped walking out onto the balcony, where he could see Tran’s shape silhouetted through the curtains.</p><p>He was sitting cross legged on the ledge, chest stripped bare, still holding the knife. His hair was all but gone, shorn off clumsily with the knife. His scalp was visible in places among the uneven clumps of hair, and Castiel could see a trickle of blood from where he’d accidentally cut himself.</p><p>“Tran.” Castiel said.</p><p>“Tell me the truth Castiel.” Tran said not looking at him.</p><p>“What have you done? You cut off your slave braid?” Castiel asked. “Oh Tran…….you know what a serious offense that is. I cannot help you. They’ll have you on the Scorpion wheel for this….”</p><p>“That’s not going to happen to me. Not that it matters much either way now.” Tran said in the same dejected monotone he’d been speaking in.</p><p>“If this is about last night I don’t care. I’m not angry. And well find a way trough this. Just……come inside with me. It’ll be alright.” Castiel said taking a step closer, but stopping when Tran pointed the knife at him; his head whipping to look at him for the first time.</p><p>“That’s not going to happen either.” He said.</p><p>“Tran….What’s going on? Just, put the knife down and let’s talk about this.” Castiel said.</p><p>“I’m done talking. I’m done suffering. I’m done with all of it. I’ve played my part.” Tran said with a small nod. “I owe you an apology Castiel.”</p><p>“It’s alright.” Castiel said.</p><p>“No. I betrayed you.” Tran said.</p><p>“Tran. It’s alright. Really it is. We’ll get through this together. We don’t choose who we love….”  Castiel said.</p><p>“No we don’t. But we do choose who we are.” Tran said scrubbing his hands over his eyes. And Castiel realized he was crying. “You should run Castiel. Leave this place. You’re in danger…..”</p><p>“What are you talking about?” Castiel asked feeling premonition ice its way down his spine.</p><p>“There’s a storm coming.” Tran said. “One that’ll lay waste to this world. And you. Your family? You are right in the middle of it.”</p><p>“Tran please. Come inside with me. You’re not speaking any sense.” Castiel said.</p><p>“Why did you have to be so wonderful?” Tran said sobbing.</p><p>Castiel made to put his hands out and move closer but Tran stopped him, his eyes widening and he waved the knife. It wasn’t a threat so much as a clear statement for Castiel to remain where he was.</p><p>“I want the truth.” Tran said.</p><p>“The truth about what?” Castiel asked, his muscles jumping with mounting tension. He was becoming increasingly scared of what was happening here. He needed to take charge of this situation fast.</p><p>“Tell me. Was there ever a moment….when you loved me? If things had been different….do you think that you and I could ever have been together?” Tran asked. His voice was distant. But his eyes were an ocean of sadness Castiel was sure he would drown in.</p><p>“Not in this life Tran.” Castiel said softly. He watched his words hit Tran like arrows in his chest. He nodded as if he’d known the answer. But had still been hoping against hope for a different one.</p><p>“Maybe in the next one.” Tran whispered before driving the blade to the hilt into his own throat an throwing himself over the edge of the balcony.</p><p>Castiel remembered screaming until his voice was completely gone…</p><p>*     *     *</p><p>Castiel folded the shards of the comb in the silk again and carefully returned them into the drawer. It had been four months since Tran had killed himself and Castiel still mourned him every day. Reaching deeper into the same drawer that held the comb, he pulled out a small bundle.</p><p>It was Tran’s slave braid. Expertly braided and knotted with crimson thread, before being gilded and tied into an ornate knot. It was all he had left of him.</p><p>Despite Castiel’s pleas to the contrary, there had been no funeral. No ceremony. In the eyes of all concerned, he was an errant slave who had killed himself. Nothing more. A sin in the eyes of the Light. No Godspeaker spoke the sacred rituals, and Tran’s body was disposed of beyond the city wall where his wandering spirit would not haunt the living.</p><p>Castiel touched his lips to the knot, before returning it to its hiding place. The kiss which – perhaps – he should have given Tran that night when he’d asked for it. Would it have made a difference?</p><p>Would Tran still be alive if Castiel had let himself love him back?</p><p>He’d never know.</p><p>All he knew for certain was that Tran was the first person to ever say those words to him. And he’d died for it.</p><p>He heard a slave knock softly on his door and he called for them to enter, pushing the drawer closed and meeting his own eyes in the mirror.</p><p>Tran had said more words than that, and for the past four months those words had created many questions. And soon the moment would be at and for Castiel to finally, get some answers.</p>
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<a name="section0023"><h2>23. The end of one story.....</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER!!!!!!!!! </p><p>This chapter contains some graphic imagery of chickens being slaughtered. I am emphatically anti animal cruelty. But I swear I needed it for the story. Please don't hate me!</p><p>Also. Yay! familiar face!!!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Dee-Ann woke it was three fingers past newsun. He could hear sounds coming from the barracks from beyond his hiding place he had found the night before.</p><p>Having managed to avoid the smiting gaze of the Godspeaker, Dee-Ann had walked and walked. The two smitten Traders and the Godspeaker had been the only other waking people he saw. The rest of the people of Et-Banotaj were in their homes during the quiet time. They slept beneath their quiet roofs. They were wise. They were not Dee-Ann, hidden in the God’s great eye. When he reached the edge of the Trader’s district, he paused in a shadow to get his bearings. While learning from the stupid tutor, he had coaxed the man to tell him of this Warlord’s city. He had shown him with words and pictures, how each District was laid out around the Pinnacle’s base. To reach the City Gate, he would have to walk through six more districts to reach the Queen’s Road. The Gate sat between two huge waiting Godposts. He would have to make his way down the slope of the city. HE would have to pass alongside the warrior’s training ground, to the main gate set into the City Wall.</p><p>After that, he would have to find a way to get through.</p><p>‘The God will show me what I must know. I am its Slave. I am Dee-Ann. Its chosen. When it wants to, it will tell me what I have to do.’ He thought to himself.</p><p>He looked up at the night sky, where the Godmoon walked with her obedient husband. Four fingers until newsun. That was time enough to reach the wall. Chilly in the Quiet Time, under the God’s severe protection, he headed for the Pinnacle. It was the most central point of the city, and would help him navigate streets he knew from pictures and words, but had ever seen in person.</p><p>One wide street lef from Et-Banotaj’s Gate Keep, through the city and its Districts, around Banotaj’s pinnacle, all the way up the Mountain to the Warlord’s Palace and the Godhouse at the very top. The Queen’s Road. The stupid tutor had tried to impress Dee-Ann by explaining that this single road was one of the greatest feats of Engineering the world had ever known. It was a commonly held belief that the Road ran in a straight line from one Warlord’s city to the next, until eventually reaching all the way to the shining city of Et-Novakar. Dee-Ann didn’t know if it was true. But tonight he found himself silently praying that it was. He had no idea how far it was to Et-Novakar. He remembered well how many weeks and months it had taken to reach Et-Banotaj from that nameless forgotten Village in the Savage East. If Et-Novakar was even further, he was certain trying to imagine the distance would swallow him whole.</p><p>Instead he focused on what he could see here and no in front of him. The Queen’s Road guided Dee-Ann, but being cautious of capture; he did not walk it. Instead he darted along the smaller side streets, twisting and turning like a clever lizard through the city’s alleyways. With every swift, soft footfall, he left the Trader’s District behind him. Left Maeghara and Derubeis, and the stupid monkey Hooli.</p><p>He traveled through districts he knew only by name. Artisan. Musician. Leather Worker. Musician. Jeweler. Pot Smith. He moved passed darkened villas that did not want him. Past roaming Godspeakers who did not see him. Always keeping his fierce gaze pinned on the Queen’s Road that would take him to the gate, and to Et-Novakar; where the God told him he could make a home.</p><p>He passed a fountain, bubbling water from one of the rivers flowing beneath the land of Mijak. He took the leather flask from his food sack and filled it, then drank a little from his hand. He remained alert for Godspeakers. But none approached.</p><p>The city districts ended at last, at the place where the wide Queen’s Road began winding down the slope towards the Gate. The two tall Godposts the Tutor had spoken of stood their grim watch on either side of the Gate. They looked like the Godposts in Derubeis’ Garden. Sinuous snakes of Et-Novakar with a stinging scorpion upon each hooded head; the godbowls at their bases were the largest he had ever seen. Their scorpion bellies were half filled with offering. He knelt before each one, digging his fingers into the sash he had tied around his godbraids and dug out two. These he shore off with the knife, before placing one golden godbraid in each one.</p><p>“This is for the God.” He told each Godpost. “This is for Dee-Ann in the God’s Eye. For his protection.”</p><p>The Godsnake of Et-Novakar, smiled at him; twice. The Godmoon and her husband walked almost to the far horizon. When newsun came he must be at the Gate, away from the Road and eyes that had no business seeing him. He hitched up his food sack and kept on walking. Torches burned along the top of the Great Wall protecting the city. At first, the Queen’s Road remained flat, but then the road started tilting downwards more sharply. His breathing hastened as he walked. His legs had begun to burn a while ago. He was not used to so much exercise and cursed himself for a lazy he-brat.</p><p>In the middle of the walls red and black stones, there were impossibly tall and wide gates. There was no way to leave Et-Banotaj city. The gates were closed. And the walls were built without footholds. And there were no trees high enough for him to climb.  Where could he hide until morning?</p><p>His searching gaze fell upon a stunted copse of grey saplings that looked to form a kind of natural cave. They grew a little further up the hillside. Close enough that he could see the Gate’s doings, but far enough that those he watched would not notice him watching.</p><p>“Those trees are the God’s doing.” He said to himself.</p><p>The stunted saplings resisted him. Their bodies twisted and their thorny branches clawed at his face, his arms, his clothes as he crawled into them. He bit his lip to swallow the pain as he pushed further. He was Dee-Ann of the savage East. He could not be defeated by trees. And he wasn’t. He found a small clear space at their thorny heart, curled up in it; and slept.</p><p>*     *     *</p><p>Men were shouting now. There was the sound of metal striking metal and rock. Horses neighing. Goats bleating. Chickens cackling. The lowing of oxen. Many feet striking the ground. The city was awake.</p><p>The air was filled with the smell of smoke. Mixed with the smoke was the smell of roasting meat. The smell of too many women intermixed with too many animals to name. All waiting to pass through the gate. All waiting – Dee-Ann knew – for the Godspeaker to give her word that it was a safe day to begin a journey.</p><p>He uncoiled himself like a snake and moved to the edge of his cave of tangled trees. Peering through the spaces in their thorney branches, he could see that the mighty gates of the City were open. Slaves pulling cart went through. Leaving and joining the stream of travelers coming and going through the great mouth in the city wall.</p><p>A group of warriors: their godbraids heavy with solid gold beads; their bodies protected by leather vests blazed bright and bold with the godsnake of Et-Novakar; long spears in their hands as they rose their striped and spotted horses onto the road – rode through the gate. They were laughing. There was no sense of danger about them. They seemed only to be exercising their horses, and to be overseeing the endless carts and carriages bearing all number of unknown things into the city.</p><p>The smoke from the roast fires smelt so good….</p><p>His belly rumbled. He crawled back into his secret space and opened his food sack. Five small loaves. Five small bricks of cheese. One leather flask of water. Since leaving the Village his body had been spoiled. It had grown used to lots of food and drink. In the Village he had survived on less meat in four days than Maeghara had given him in one highsun meal. He could make his food last for many, many days if he became again – for a little time – that starving he-brat under the table.</p><p>He took the cook’s knife and one loaf of bread, and sliced it into six pieces. He did the same with a brick of cheese. One piece of bread, one piece of cheese at newsun. One piece of bread and one piece of cheese at lowsun. This food would last him fourteen highsuns, and one newsun. He had flesh on his bones now. It would be enough. Between now and when his food was gone, the God would guide him onto the road. He did not doubt that. He would never doubt the God.</p><p>His supply of water however, would not last as long as the food. Women died fast without water. He had seen it in the savage East. He would not die like that. He would leave his safe place sometime between newsun and lowsun and refill his flask. It would be safe to do that. The God would keep him hidden.</p><p>Dee-Ann ate his piece of bread and his piece of cheese, then stored the rest in his food sack. He sipped some water from his leather flask and carefully replaced its stopper; then he crawled back to the edge of his secret space. And from there he watched the gate of Et-Banotaj.</p><p>By now, Ashar would know he was gone from Maeghara’s villa. Maeghara would know. And stupid Derubeis. Would they look for him? He didn’t know. But if they did they would never find him. They would never look for him here. He was dead to them. They were dead to him. Maeghara who had called him precious. Who had taught him honey and how to smile. She was dead to him forever.</p><p>She’d called him precious. She’d called him beautiful. He was beautiful. The mirror had shown him that.</p><p>It was the only time she hadn’t lied.</p><p>He was beautiful in his face. He was beautiful in his body.</p><p>He thought of his treacherous face. Its beauty had sold him to Maeghara. In time it would have brought her gold, when she again had sold him to someone else. His heart tore again, hearing her words as clear as if she were sitting right next to him:</p><p>“You are a slave Dee-Ann.”</p><p>Fresh blood leaked from the tear, seeping into his soul. He did not want a beautiful face. Not if it meant he was precious to women like Maeghara. Or Derubeis. Or all the women like them who sold beautiful boys like him for gold. He realized then that wherever he went, his beauty would be a curse. The ripening that Maeghara had waited for so lustfully was upon him. Even in Et-Novakar – city of cities – there would be cruel, lying women like Maeghara with gold in their eyes and lies in their heart who would notice a beautiful he-brat with a ripe body and flowing golden godbraids.</p><p>He couldn’t do anything about his body. But his face? His Godbraids?</p><p>Sitting cross legged with his back straight, he dug into his food sack for the cook’s knife. He turned the blade to the side so he could look into his own eyes. For a moment he was gripped with the urge to kiss his skin with the blade. To cut off that beauty that had made him so precious until there was nothing left.</p><p>The tip of the blade pierced his cheek, and he felt a hot rivulet of blood run down his face.</p><p>But even as his fingers tightened around the knife to drag it along his skin, something stopped him.</p><p>Like a voice somewhere deep within him.</p><p>No.</p><p>His face was a gift from the God. To destroy it would be to spit in the God’s eye.</p><p>And he would never do that.</p><p>He removed the blade and dabbed at the little wound – no bigger than the toenail on his baby toe. He would just have to find another way.</p><p>For his face he could do nothing. But his godbraids were another story altogether. He unwrapped the fabric from around his head slowly, careful not to jostle the silver bells dangling at the edge of each braid and making them sing. He allowed himself only a few small, jealous breaths; feeling the familiar weight of his beautiful godbraids falling around his shoulders and back.</p><p>Then moving swiftly, took them one by one, and turning the knife blade flat against his scalp; sliced them free of his head. Slowly but surely, hand over hand; the mound of hair in his lap grew. The golden strands unwound themselves from the very tight braids, and he could feel curls dancing around his head as well. All floppy and free. When the last godbraid had been cut off, he busied himself untangling every last silver bell, charm and amulet that had once been a part of him.</p><p>He would need the silver. And perhaps he could trade the amulets.</p><p>The hair he would keep to help him make a fire. He knew how. The Man in the village had often used handfuls of his own filthy, matted hair to light the oven.</p><p>And so it was that he shed his skin again. The same way that he had shed his skin in the bath of the slave Bisla, when he had shed the scared, starving he-brat under the table, and became Dee-Ann of Maeghara, precious and beautiful. He had shed his skin many times since then. Every time emerging a different and more improved snake underneath. He became Dee-Ann who could read. Dee-Ann who danced with the God’s grace. Dee-Ann who was fit to sit at Maeghara’s side. His heart grew hollow at the thought.</p><p>That stupid wide eyed Dee-Ann who was nothing more than walking coin to be bought and sold among women was dead now too. And he would shed him too. In his stead, he would become a new Dee-Ann, who belonged only to himself. Only to the God.</p><p>“I am Dee-Ann. I am no woman’s slave.”</p><p>Dee-Ann waited for the city to grow sleepy. Then quiet. Then silent as the grave before daring to light his little fire, digging a small pit with his fingers and filling it with twigs and small branches, before using a handful of his shorn off hair and the heel of the knife on a stone to spark a flame. It was only a small fire, but it was good enough for him.</p><p>He removed his Scorpion amulet from around his neck, laying it on his palm and holding it up to his face.</p><p>“Help me God.” He said aloud. “Help me find a way through the gate.”</p><p>The Village Godspeaker had said that no mortal could talk directly to the God. Only a Godspeaker could hear it. Only a Godspeaker could hear its will. Once he had believed her. But now he thought she spoke lies. As all women spoke lies to ignorant he-brats to keep them small and under their heel.</p><p>He heard the God. He knew its will. It had blinded its Godspeaker to him in the street. He had offered himself to it. And it had accepted.</p><p>“Tell me. Tell me. Tell me.” He prayed, never taking his eyes from the carved eyes of his amulet. In the firelight, the Scorpion seemed almost to breathe in her palm. From the depths of his waiting mind, the God plucked free a memory. He remembered the beautiful slave boy Bennihime, gone with the Godspeaker of Todorok Village.</p><p>‘I was sold because the God took my Mother and gave my Father to another Woman. She had her own sons. She did not want my Mother’s.’</p><p>This was a story that could serve him now. He wasn’t born a slave. The woman had sold him, and made him a slave. But Bennihime had been free. And Dee-Ann was born free too. In Mijak’s Savage East. He could twist that Slave boy Bennihime’s story. Make it a story about him instead. Someone passing through the Gate would believe it. The God would guide him to the right person.</p><p>Closing the Scorpion in his fist, he curled up in his secret hiding place and slept.</p><p>*     *     *</p><p>That night a fever rose in him. And sleep became a torment. He dreamed of terrible things. He dreamed of fire. And Blood. And death. And thorns pricking him. Of flesh tearing. He felt himself flung into the air, and was as a bird. Or a bit of dust carried on the wind. It flung him far through the air, over hills and mountains and valleys and rivers that he had never seen. He saw cities like none he had ever seen, people with things shaped like a woman but that were not one.</p><p>He screamed and screamed his agony and his fear until a voice boomed at him. Though to call it a voice would be to call a mountain a pebble. It whispered in his ear. Yet somehow seemed to be shouting at the same time.</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>You are Dee-Ann. You are the God’s Slave. You will do its bidding. You live for its purpose. The God is in you. You are in the God’s Eye.</em>
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</p><p>A long time passed before he woke. When once more he opened his eyes, the world was in darkness. The Godmoon and his wife walked boldly in the sky. Somehow he had slept through an entire day. He sat up. His belly was hollow. His throat was raw. And his body felt quivery and sticky with sweat.</p><p>*     *     *</p><p>When all his bread and cheese had been eaten, Dee-Ann crawled from the protection of his secret hiding place for the last time, and walked out into the world. His skin was dirty. His body stank. His tunic and pantaloons were filthy, ripped and caked with dirt and stained to sickness with old sweat. He looked like a he-brat who had been running forever. He knew he was anything but beautiful.</p><p>It was exactly how he wanted to look. He thought even Maeghara would not know him now. Stupid Derubeis would walk right by him in the street, her pale wrinkled and moaning her complaint.</p><p>The city’s large gates were not yet open. They did not open until two fingers past newsun. But other buildings near the gate opened earlier than that. He had seen it in the days he had sat and waited. He walked around the wall until he found the first of these places. It was a waiting place where caravans could take up temporary residence until the omens read by the Godspeaker read ‘yes’ and they received her word to travel. He saw pens of goats and sheep, and crates of chickens. He saw slaughtered calves hanging on hooks, and tubs of gizzards overflowing. A row of tents – plain brown, not striped and pretty like Maeghara’s Trader tent – marched up and down. He could see nothing past them. The ground was bare in places, beaten hard and flat by many feet. Coarse, gray green grass grew in patches between the places for tents. The air was thick with animal smells. Blood stink. With the shout of voices from beyond the row of tents. The goats and sheep bleated. The chickens cackled. From somewhere else came the lowing of cattle and the bawling of calves. Scrawny dogs quarreled and hunted for scraps.</p><p>He had watched this particular caravan with interest for days. And knew without knowing that this would be his salvation. They were a performing troupe of musicians and dancers and all manner of performers. And their leader moaned daily and nightly about being short handed for all of the tasks that needed doing while they were on the road. Even better, Dee-Ann had heard they were bound for Et-Novakar. Some of the dancers had stolen a bottle of wine and drunk it near Dee-Ann’s tree cave one night, chittering excitedly about performing for the Novakari Queen before getting drunk and fucking in the sand.</p><p>Dee-Ann had closed his ears and fallen asleep. He had heard the Woman fucking the man more times than he could count. But from the moment he had heard them talking he knew. Here was the God’s finger, pointing him on his way to Et-Novakar. He had waited for the quiet time, before running to the great twin Godbowls at the gate and offering a single silver bell from his shorn off godbraids and a drop of his blood; as an offering of thanks for the God’s aid.</p><p>“You have brought me this far God. Please see your slave Dee-Ann a little further.” He said softly before continuing closer to the tents.</p><p>A young he-brat stood beside the caged chickens. His godbraids were stubby and he wore no silver godbells. One braid was scarlet. He was a slave. He wore nothing but a loincloth and a chipped dogtooth amulet around his neck. He held a cleaver in one hand, and a chicken in the other. He was trying to lay the chicken on a chopping block and cut off its head. The chicken was squawking and flapping its wings. The he-brat was afraid of it. He struck at it with a clumsy blow and cut of a finger instead of its head. The chicken cackles and ran away. A huge woman came out of a tent to see what all the shrieking was about. She saw the he-brat with his blood spurting finger, and smacked him hard across his ear.</p><p>“Idiot fool! Can’t even kill a chicken!” the big woman shouted. “What use are you when I’m shorthanded already?!”</p><p>The he-brat was clutching his bleeding stump. He wasted a river of water down his face. Dee-Ann stepped from outside to inside. He crossed the threshold into the tent and picked up the cleaver the fool slave boy had dropped. He snatched a chicken from the nearest crate and cut off its head with a single blow. The he-brat stopped crying, and the big woman stared.</p><p>“Who are you? You ugly brat!” she demanded. “What do you do here? Killing my chicken?”</p><p>He held out the chicken’s twitching carcass. “You wanted a chicken killed. I killed one for you.” He said. “I am Dee-Ann, of Todorok Village.”</p><p>The big woman laughed as she took the dead chicken. “Are you now brat? What happened to you? You look like a hunting cat wanted you for her dinner. Smells like might be she did.”</p><p>“My Mother died. And the God gave my Father to another woman who hated me. She had her own sons to get rid of. She cut off my godbraids and tried to kill me. She said she would sell me and see me die a wretched slave. I ran away from that woman. I ran away here, and I mean to keep running until I reach Et-Novakar. I can read. And I can write. I can dance. And I can sing. I can kill chickens with a single blow. I can clean. And I can cook.”</p><p>The big woman looked more amused than anything else. He had to look a long way up to her eyes. She was one of the tallest women he had ever seen. Her face looked nothing like Maeghara, or Derubeis. Her skin was pink from heat, and her godbraids were the color of blood. Closer now, Dee-Ann could see she was not as old as he had originally thought. She only looked older because of her size. And it was clear that she had spent many years in the sun, and he body was the kind of powerful that Dee-Ann had only seen in warriors.</p><p>Bloos dripped from the chicken’s neck, pooling at her feet. “Ran away from a miserable bitch did you?” she asked. She had a meaty face. Her lips were thick. Her nose was flat. And her teeth were crooked. She wore seven amulets in her ears. “What’s to say you won’t run away from this place too? Or as soon as I take you to Et-Novakar eh? Dee-Ann of Todorok Village? I’ve as many dancers and singers as I need.”</p><p>She was about to reject him. He could see it in her face. So he spoke again before she would have the chance.</p><p>“I have oak in my cock. And I am unsullied. I will serve you in any way that you wish. Just take me with you through the city gates. Take me to Et-Novakar and I’ll lick your cunt every night and let you fuck me as much as you like.” he said making sure to keep his voice steady as he transferred his weight from one foot to the other. It was a motion the stupid tutor had taught him to begin a dance. It sent a slow ripple through his body. And filthy though he was, the shape of his limbs was still noticeable. The woman noticed it. He could tell by the way he eyes dragged over him. She looked at his face and he tilted his head forward, allowing his matted hair to obscure his face even more.</p><p>“I have nowhere else to go.” He added, pitching his voice softly.</p><p>The woman looked at the chicken he had killed. She looked at the boy with two thumbs, seven fingers and a bleeding stump. “Get to a barracks Harrowspex! Idiot! She can sew that finger back on. Or dip it in hot pitch if she cannot.”</p><p>The he-brat ran off, still sobbing with his stupid pain. “Dee-Ann of Todorok Village.” She said looking at him again. Her eyes were narrow, wondering. “Can I trust you?”</p><p>“Dee-Ann of Et-Novakar.” He corrected her. “I do not know Todorok Village.”</p><p>The big woman’s eyes went wide, then she laughed from her belly; making her breasts shake and her cheeks wobble. “Dee-Ann of Et-Novakar then. Kill me all these chickens, pluck them and gut them and spit them for roasting. Then we will talk about you serving me and the God in Mijak’s city of cities.”</p><p>He looked around. There was the tub for chicken heads and gizzards. There was the big sack for all their plucked feathers. There was the spit, threaded already. The chickens sat in their fastened cages, shitting and clucking and waiting to die.</p><p>“My name is Bara-bhur. Fetch me when you are done.” She said and handed him back the chicken he’d killed.</p><p>As she walked away towards her tent, Dee-Ann lifted his head and looked to the Godpost at the top of distant Et-Banotaj palace.</p><p>“You have chosen me.” He told the God. “You will bring me to your city. Now you must show me why I am brought. What it is that I will do for you there.”</p><p>*     *     *</p><p>When all the chickens had been killed, plucked and spitted Dee-Ann went to fetch the woman Bara-bhur. She gave him an approving nod and beckoned him to follow. “In the morning we leave for Et-Novakar. I’ll introduce to you the cook and a few others who will have use for you. Work hard and I’ll feed you and pay you a fair wage. You give me any trouble, and I’ll make you regret the first kiss your father ever gave your mother.”</p><p>She led her deeper into the tents to a smaller one in the middle. She lifted the flap and motioned him in.</p><p>“This is my Daughter’s tent. When you’re not busy anywhere else, you’ll serve her in any way she needs until I call for you.” She said. Dee-Ann simply nodded.</p><p>“Mother?” a dark shape said from inside the tent. Once the flap was closed behind them Dee-Ann could see it was a girl not much older than him, sitting in front of a small fire pit and fiddling with pokers. She seemed to be smithing something. But he did not know what.</p><p>“This is Dee-Ann. He is going with us to Et-Novakar. See him bathed and for the love of the God find him something clean to wear that won’t scare the dancing boys. Then put him to work. He can sleep in here with you.” Bara-bhur said.</p><p>“You can’t mean…..” the girl said whirling to look first at Dee-Ann, then at her mother.</p><p>“Did I stutter?” Bara-bhur asked, her expression turning dangerous.</p><p>Dee-Ann watched the fight leave the girl. “No mother.” She said, though it was obvious she bristled with maggot words behind her eyes.</p><p>“Good.” The big woman said turning and walking out.</p><p>When they were alone Dee-Ann simply stared at the ground. The girl looked at him for a long time without speaking. He allowed his eyes to trail up her body. She wore a leather apron over her clothes, and was red faced from the fire. Her godbraids – tied in a club at the base of her neck – were red too. She looked like her mother, but more handsome.  Or would have been, if she didn’t look so furious. The moment he met her eyes, he drove his own back down to the ground.</p><p>“Do you speak?” she asked eventually.</p><p>He nodded. She widened her eyes like she might hit him. “Yes.” He said. “I can speak.</p><p>“Well come on then.” She said turning and opening the back flap of the tent. “Let’s get you to a bath before you stink up my entire tent.”</p><p>He followed without a word.</p><p>“What did call you?” she asked over her shoulder. “Dean?”</p><p>“Dee-Ann.” He corrected her with a frown.</p><p>She stopped long enough to look at him. “Hello Dee-Ann. I am Chaala.” She said. “Chaala Bara-bhur.”</p>
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<a name="section0024"><h2>24. ....Is the beginning of another</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi all!!!! Sorry for this going up late. I was on schedule then Covid-19 claimed my Fiance's grandmother, and a friend of ours in the space of two days. So it has been a bit of a turmoil in my house the last few days. But I admit, it was nice to escape into this chapter. Hope you all enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The next morning as promised, as soon as the great gates of Et-Banotaj opened; the caravan of the woman Bara-bhur departed. It was not a great caravan. Only ten carriages laden with tents and ropes and all manner of things Dee-Ann had no name for. The company of dancers and musicians consisted of only thirty people altogether, among them the cook in whose carriage Dee-Ann traveled through the gates.</p><p>The slave cook-brat – who had cut off his finger – slept on a bedroll in the back of the cook carriage. The harrowing woman – Dee-Ann could not remember what she was called – had sewn his finger back on for him. It would grow back or it would turn black and fall off. She had given him a tea to make sleep, and a poultice to ward off infection. But if a demon saw fit to climb into his flesh through the mouth the stupid he-brat had opened himself, he might still die all the same. It was in the hands of the God now.</p><p>Dee-Ann held his breath until his heart beat like a drum in his ear as the Gatekeeper inspected the woman Bara-Bhur’s amulets and keys that would grant them permission to travel on the Queen’s road. After what felt like an eternity, the woman Bara-Bhur whistled at her camel, and the caravan began to move. From where he was sitting on the splintered boards of the cook carriage – covered by a canopy of oiled fabric – Dee-Ann let his eyes take in the sight of the great city Et-Banotaj as inch by inch, step by step; more of it came into view.</p><p>He remembered the last time he had seen it. That long ago night that Maeghara and Stupid Derubeis had delivered him to the God from the Savage East.</p><p>He had been stupid then. A stupid child who had dreamed stupid small dreams for himself that fit into what he believed to be a larger destiny.</p><p>He was not stupid now.</p><p>“I begged you to help me escape this place God. And you have listened. Your precious and beautiful slave Dee-Ann is grateful. Tonight when we make camp I will make sacrifice to you. And I swear I will do your bidding.” He whispered to himself placing his hand over his chest where his Scorpion amulet hung against his flesh. He crawled until he was sitting with his back against the back of the carriage so he was not looking at Et-Banotaj anymore. He had no desire to remember that place, or any other place than Et-Novakar.</p><p>As the carriage hobbled along, Dee-Ann’s thoughts went to his new circumstances. The girl Chaala – for he had learned she was only a year older than he was – had taken him to have a bath. It had been glorious. He had grown accustomed to such luxuries as baths in the villa, and Dee-Ann let his head slip under the water again and again. But the basin was small, and the hard cake of soap had been harsh on his skin, which had taken many scrubbings before the froth was white as sadsa once more. As he dried himself he had looked into the small mirror to see the new snake which had been revealed by the last shedding. His time in his thorny cave had shaved all softness from his body. He was skinny, and every muscle clinging to his skeleton was clearly visible through the tight seal of his skin. His hair – free now of its gobraids – was short and uneven around his head. His neck felt strange so naked, and his ears – free now of the jewels Maeghara had given him – tickled with the soft hair falling there. He had a tawny fringe that fell into his eyes. It was not the only hair he would have to grow used to. For the first time in a very long time, his body was all but covered in it. What had been shorn off daily had now had a chance to sprout from all manner of places. His chest, his stomach, above his cock, his legs and even his beautiful face. He would let it grow. He needed to keep as much of his face hidden as possible.</p><p>When he was dry, the girl Chaala had brought him clothes. He noticed something strange about her. Despite waiting right next to the basin where he had bathed himself, she had not taken advantage of the opportunity to look at his naked body. This was strange. Dee-Ann knew he was a far cry from the stupid slave boy that had run from Maeghara’s villa. But he had grown accustomed to women’s lustful stares on him. He wore no slave braid – like Chaala and her mother – but he did not think that mattered overmuch. He had heard gossip enough in the kitchens of Maeghara’s villa to know that Derubeis and even Maeghara had routinely fucked their slaves. It was just the way things are. A woman needs to fuck, as an artist needs ink or a dancer needs music. And that the woman Bara-bhur had ordered Dee-Ann to sleep in Chaala’s tent meant that tonight, she would fuck him.</p><p>Perhaps this was the reason she did not wish to look. She meant to keep him as a delicacy to be enjoyed later. That must be it.</p><p>So he dressed himself in the clothes she gave him: Thick cotton pantaloons that pooled around his legs and a simple tunic – both brown – which he had to tighten with a cord around his waist. His feet were smaller than hers, so he decided to keep his own shoes for the time being.</p><p>Once he was dressed, she delivered him to her mother and he was put to work in the cook’s tent. He butchered the carcasses of slaughtered goats, helped the cook roast the chickens he’d put on a spits earlier, and fetched water from the nearby fountain whenever they needed it. His eyes found the copse of trees that had been his cave. And he smiled. A small, thin smile like the flame of a match. There then gone. Long after lowsun, when the entire company of dancers and musicians and slaves had finished eating, and the dishes had been washed, and the fires burned low; Dee-Ann walked back to the tent of the girl Chaala.</p><p>He was surprised to find her already asleep. He had expected that he would have to deliver the promise he had made to her mother. Instead a bundle of blankets and a pillow had been laid out for him in the corner of the tent. Confused but not altogether unhappy, Dee-Ann stripped off his clothes and went to sleep.</p><p>To sleep with his head in a pillow was almost as sweet as the most delicious honey, and Dee-Ann closed his scorpion amulet in his fist and bit his lip not to waste water as he covered himself in the blanket. Aaaaiiiiiieeeeeeee the God see him. He danced in the God’s eye.</p><p>But still. There was a small part of him that almost missed the freedom he had had since leaving the villa. Here again there were rules to follow. People to consider. It had only been barely more than a week. But Dee-Ann had been truly free for the first time in his life. That cold, dark, dirty, cleared out space among the thorny branches was the only place in his entire life that had ever been his alone. Not the floor under the table in the Woman’s hut in the nameless Village. Nor the room beneath the stairs in Maeghara’s villa. His. And the God’s.</p><p>The God had made him beautiful, so when the God sent Maeghara to his village she had noticed him and saved him from the Woman and the Savage East. The God had made him precious, so Maeghara did not sell him like the slave Benihimme in Et-Haravelle, where the God had first seen his heart. The God had given him cunning, so when Maeghara had meant to make of him a slave, he had escaped and survived when the God delivered him to those trees. Now the God had sent the woman Bara-bhur and her daughter.</p><p>And Dee-Ann knew. It was foolish to expect the God to just keep giving and giving, and never have to pay anything back.</p><p>So if fucking with the girl Chaala was to be his payment, then that was not a hardship.</p><p>He had never fucked anyone. But the stupid Tutor had explained, and he had seen it enough times in the village hovel that he was not afraid of the girl Chaala. He was not afraid of anything. He was Dee-Ann from the Savage East. He had named himself. He had come this far. If the God demanded he fuck with Chaala in order to deliver him to Et-Novakar, he would do it. He knew there was pain involved. But pain was nothing new.</p><p>*     *     *</p><p>Next to him the slave cook-brat mewled and shuddered where he lay. His face was white. And his skin was shiny and stinking with sweat. Dee-Ann did not think his finger would grow. The God would inhale his godspark or demons would take him.</p><p>It had been three days with the Caravan now. And Dee-Ann soon learned its rhythm. At first their ways had seemed strange. But the road was nothing new to him. And inch by inch he was remembering its ways. He had never traveled this road before, but it became clear – once they were well free of Et-Banotaj – that one stretch of the Queen’s Road was not all that different from another.</p><p>While the aqueducts that fed the city of Et-Banotaj from the rivers in the surrounding valley were still visible, the area was covered in green grass and tall spindly trees. There were flowers growing on either side of the road and herds of cattle could be seen grazing. As they moved further from the city however, Dee-Ann could see that the browning he had heard Maeghara speak of with the Godspeaker years before, had only continued to spread. While his child eyes had been unable to see the bareness of the earth – still looking through the eyes of the barren Savage East – he could now see that the earth was more brown than green, and water flowed down in rocky basins from the mountains in streams that still dreamed of being rivers.</p><p>Another difference he noticed came on the second day. After a few hours of moving, the caravan came to an abrupt halt. Dee-Ann jumped from the cook’s carriage, and crept to the front of the caravan to see what was going on. The girl Chaala was there, having stepped off her own caravan, and halted him with a hand on his chest.</p><p>“Checkpoint.” She said.</p><p>From her voice he assumed she thought he would understand this, but he did not. “What is that?” he asked scrunching up his face.</p><p>“There is a war band up ahead. They are making sure we have permission to be traveling here.” The girl Chaala said.</p><p>“Why?” he asked squinting.</p><p>“To keep us safe.” She said with wide eyes. “Haven’t you seen a military checkpoint before? They are everywhere on the Queen’s Road. The Novakari Queen and the Warlords loyal to her have all dispatched warriors to keeping the peace on the trade routes. These warriors protect Traders and Caravans from being raided or robbed by bandits or renegade Warlords in this time of drought and hunger. Didn’t you see them on your way to Et-Banotaj?” she asked.</p><p>At that moment a powerful woman galloped by on a striped horse. Her head was held high, and she wielded a mighty scimitar that gleamed in the sun like the Sand-Cat emblazoned in green and red and black stones on her leather breastplate. She did not look at Dee-Ann and Chaala where they stood. It was clear – as she rode back a few moments later – that she had been sent to count the number of caravans and carriages in their spine.</p><p>“Haravelli warriors.” Dee-Ann said.</p><p>“How can you tell?” the girl Chaala asked.</p><p>Stupid woman. “When I was in Et-Haravelle I saw Warriors. They wore breastplates that looked like that one.” He said pointing at the retreating back of the woman.</p><p>“You were in Et-Haravelle?” the girl asked.</p><p>“Did I not just say that I was?” he asked frowning.</p><p>“After you ran away from Todorok?” she clarified.</p><p>He breathed through his nose feeling annoyed. “I don’t have time for you to ask stupid questions. I will go to make sure none of the cattle have run off.” He said roundly, turning and jogging to the back of the caravan.</p><p>It was another finger before the Warriors allowed them to pass through this checkpoint, and the sun was rising high in the sky.</p><p>As the day wore on, Dee-Ann took his turn minding the spine of goats and sheep that walked alongside the caravan. He snapped the braided whip the shepherd girl gave him, and thought briefly of Obid with her maggot eyes and stabby spear. His mouth curled into a sneer of disgust, imagining the whip tasting the flesh of her back as he cracked it again. He did not see much of the performers in the caravan. The shepherd girl told him only to be quiet when driving the spine of animals along their wagons. Apparently they slept during the day and practiced their dancing and singing and music after the sun had gone to bed. Dee-Ann nodded but not care. A few times throughout the day, he glimpsed the girl Chaala. She seemed to be a very busy sort of a person, always flitting from this place to that one; with a worried expression and a strange sense of fidgeting urgency that infected everyone around her. He spied her tightening the lacings on a pack camel, and delivering messages along the length of the caravan from her mother – who sat right in front – to the very back where Dee-Ann was walking. She rode a horse that was taller than Dee-Ann, and several times he saw her squinting into the sun and consulting a small map she unfurled over her arm. He shook his head. Strange creatures, women.</p><p>They made camp a finger before lowsun, and Dee-Ann went to work helping the cook prepare food. He watered the camels and cleaned all the tools before eventually sitting down by himself behind the cook’s carriage and eating his food. It was simple food, stringy meat and corn bread with a cup of sour-dry wine. But it filled his belly and that was enough. He kept a heel of the bread, with a bite of meat, and poured the last bit of his wine over it. This he placed reverently on a stone a little away from the caravan, piercing the pad of his thumb on the blade of his knife – which he still kept always tucked under his clothes – and squeezing a fat drop of blood over the food.</p><p>“There is no Godpost here, but this is my offering to you God. Your slave Dee-Ann is thankful for all you have given me.” He said softly.</p><p>Walking back to the Caravan, he could hear that the musicians had started up closer to the bonfire around which the rest of the company was sitting. He did not join them. He had no desire to meet any of the others, or become close to them. He had struck his bargain with the woman Bara-bhur and with the God. Once they reached Et-Novakar he would leave them and go on to fulfill the God’s plans for him. He sometimes wanted to know them so badly his head ached, and his stomach curled. But he knew better than to ask. The God would tell its Chosen Dee-Ann in its own time. Until then he would keep his promise.</p><p>That night the girl Chaala did not come to her tent until the small hours of the quiet time. Dee-Ann had tried waiting for her, but eventually he had fallen asleep. He stirred when he sensed movement in the tent. He could see her shadowed shape as she laced up the mouth of the tent. But she did not come to him. Instead she seemed to be trying to make as little noise as possible as she climbed under the blankets of her own bed and slept. He frowned at her in the darkness. He did not understand. After failing to do so the night before, he was sure she would have waned to claim her prize this night. But the girl Chaala was snoring loudly already. He shrugged.</p><p>By the end of the first week, the routine of the caravan was becoming more familiar to him. The work was hard, but familiar. And Dee-Ann found he had plenty of time to himself to talk to the God. The surroundings here were strange to him. Brown earth covered here and there in patches of green grass like scabs clinging to a wound. Spindly trees and a stiff wind howled around them as the caravan wound its way over round hills and into a narrow valley. It was slow going most days. And in places the road was so narrow each camel and horse and donkey and sheep and goat had to be led by hand along the stoned road. Dee-Ann had no real idea where they were. But he did not care. Every step he took away from Et-Banotaj and Maeghara and Stupid Derubeis was a step he took towards the new life the God had planned for him in Et-Novakar.</p><p>When they made camp he sometimes listened to the music of the players and watched their small performances as they danced around the fire. He drank Sadsa with the woman Bara-Bhur who complained they were moving too slowly, and sometimes when she was drunk on wine or cactus juice, she would tell stories from the wars she had fought in. Dee-Ann listened with only one ear. In the Village war had been only ONE of the things that regularly killed women. Between the anvil and fangstrike and the occasional stoning by the Godspeaker, the Woman had never paid much attention to the wars of these “in-landers” as he had heard her call the people of Mijak. But it was easier to let the woman Bara-Bhur talk than to have to talk himself. He would listen to her gossip with the cook about their plans and where they would travel after the Queen’s nameday in Et-Novakar. No one in the caravan was safe from gossip. The musicians were always prattling about the dancers, who it seemed had time only for dancing, fucking and spreading stories about the musicians. Dee-Ann ignored them all. Though he had noticed more than a few glances and lingering stares in his direction from some of the dancing girls in the troupe; and he decided it would be best to keep to himself.</p><p>The woman Bara-bhur had tried several times to make jokes with Dee-Ann about fucking with the girl Chaala, and all the women would laugh and chime in. He said nothing. He was not sure what would happen if he told her the truth. He didn’t even know what the truth was. The girl seemed never to run out of excuses not to be alone with him. And when they were she would always make an excuse to walk away. Finally, he made up his mind to take care of the thing himself.</p><p>Dee-Ann walked into the girl Chaala’s tent. She was not there. But there were several candles lit around the traveling trunk he had seen her use as a desk, so he knew she had probably been called to eat, and would be back soon. Steadying himself with a quick breath he toed off his shoes then removed his tunic and undid the knot of the cord that held his pantaloons around his body. He untied the sash from around his waist. He had tied it around his godbraids the night he had left Maeghara’s villa. Now he used it to secure his food sack under his clothes, tight to his body where no woman could take it from him. Instead of bread and cheese, his food sack now held the amulets and silver bells that had once sang in his godbraided hair, the jewels from his ears and the rings he had worn around his toes, his empty water flask, and the knife he’d stolen from Maeghara’s kitchens. It was everything he owned in this world.</p><p>He removed the thong with his scorpion amulet from around his neck, wrapping it in the sash and placing it on top of the folded bundle of his clothes. This was not for any woman’s eyes to see.</p><p>Naked as a plucked chicken, he walked to the bedroll Chaala had made ready for herself and laid down on it. The cool night air pebbled his skin like the skin of a goose, but he ignored it. He turned so he was facing the mouth of the tent, propping his right arm on the pillows and leaning his head in his hand the way he had seen Maeghara and Derubeis do when they were lounging in the parlor of the villa. He crooked his left leg and wedged his foot in the bend of his right knee to keep himself upright. His free left hand, he drew along the inside of his thigh, caressing his stones and working his fingers along the length of his soft cock to make the flesh quicken. His breath stuttered and his heart thrummed as he toyed the silken skin around the heart shaped head of his cock, teasing the pad of his thumb into the delicate slit and spreading the small bead of moisture there over his cock with a shiver of pleasure.</p><p>He blinked twice when he heard Chaala’s footsteps approaching. He quieted his breath, removing his hand from his cock. This was the moment. The God would guide him.</p><p>She lifted the flap of the tent and walked in, holding a plate of food. She did not look at him immediately, turning to close the flap of the tent behind her.</p><p>“You never came to the fire. I saw you walk by earlier, I thought you might –” the girl Chaala said turning.</p><p>Whatever reaction he had expected from the girl Chaala at the sight of him presenting himself naked, pliant and cock at the ready for her to enjoy; anguished shrieking like the stupid monkey Hooli and having a plate of food hurled at his cock…….would not have been his first guess.</p><p>“<em><strong>WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!</strong></em>” she shrieked bringing up both her arms and folding them around her head as if she was being attacked by a swarm of wasps. She groped blindly for something but only ended up sticking her hand directly into the flame of a candle, which yielded another shriek of pain.</p><p>Where he lay, Dee-Ann had only just managed to swat aside the wooden plate she had aimed at his cock, and now sat swiping bits of meat and sauce from his legs and between his toes. He snarled. He wanted to pick up the fallen plate and throw it in her stupid face. He wanted to form his fingers into claws and scratch her stupid eyes out!</p><p>He suddenly felt a bundle of fabric hit him square in the jaw. Ripping it from his head, he saw it was a spare tunic of hers. Furiously he yanked it over his head.</p><p>“Explain yourself!” she barked from the corner of the tent to which she had retreated.</p><p>“Me?!” he yelled back stepping forward. “Are you demonstruck?! Wh–”</p><p>“Stay back!” she yelled grabbing a ceramic cup from her desk and hurling it at his head. He caught it from the air, fighting the urge to throw it right back.</p><p>“Stop throwing things at me!” he hissed through clenched teeth.</p><p>“Just what do you think you’re doing?” she huffed as she clutched a hand to her chest. She alternated between looking at his face, then his cock – half hidden by the tunic but still plainly visible when he moved – and anywhere else in the tent.</p><p>“Your mother told me to serve you. I thought……” Dee-Ann snapped growing uncomfortable with his nakedness and covering his cock and stones with his hands. Who was this woman to react this way? His face may have been hidden by hair. But his body was still beautiful. He was beautiful. Precious.</p><p>“That is NOT what that means! Of all the ridiculous…..” Chaala remarked stretching her eyes wide and making the words long as if she was speaking to an idiot child. Dee-Ann was not an idiot child. His anger roared within him. “Will you PLEASE cover yourself?” she added holding her hand over her eyes as if the sight of his naked skin would make her go blind.</p><p>“I already am!!!!!” Dee-Ann snarled snatching his pantaloons from the pile and shoving his legs into them angrily. “I’ll tell your mother I misunderstood her intentions. And I’ll find somewhere else to sleep tonight.” He finished as he grabbed for the rest of his meager possessions and all but ran out of the tent.</p><p>Aaaaaiiiiiiieeeeeeee!!!!!! He did not understand what had happened. But he was ready to leave this place. He was outside the gates of Et-Banotaj now. He did not need to stay here any longer. This stupid shrieking woman could keep her throwing things. He would find another way to reach Et-Novakar. He knew he–</p><p>“No! WAIT! Please! I’m sorry!” the girl Chaala screamed chasing after him. She grabbed his arm and spun him with enough force to make him lose his footing. On instinct he groped for anything to hold onto to keep from falling, grasping her hand. His free hand arched through the air and he slapped her as hard as he could. She was taller than him, and likely quite a bit stronger. But she hadn’t been expecting the slap and he saw the look of surprised pain blossom on her face. He ripped his arm free as soon as he was sure on his feet and made to keep walking.</p><p>“Please Dee-Ann.” She begged, clutching her slapped face and reaching for him again.</p><p>“Don’t touch me!” he ordered.</p><p>“Alright!” she said quickly. “Alright!!!” she added, holding up both hands in front of her with her fingers splayed. “Just come back inside please?” she was all but begging now.</p><p>Dee-Ann frowned. He did not want to. She had insulted him powerfully. He had hit her. And she was a woman. He was not sure she was not just luring him inside so she could exact her revenge without anyone close to see. But the only alternative was to make good on his promise and sleep somewhere else. His only option would be the cook’s cart, which was already full of the slave brat. That left sleeping with the goats and sheep in the dirt.</p><p>“Please. I’m sorry.” Chaala said making her voice soft. He sneered at her. He did not trust her.</p><p>“If you try to hit me or rape me or throw anything else at me….” Dee-Ann hissed, reaching into the bundle he was holding and pulling out the knife in a smooth arc. “…..I’ll slit your cunt open all the way to your heart and bathe myself in your blood!”</p><p>Her eyes widened, and her cheeks went bloodless. But she nodded slowly. “I swear. On my lifeblood I swear to you. I will not harm you.” She whispered, her eyes darting between the tip of the blade and his eyes. “Now please……” she urged.</p><p>He kept the knife in his hand, walking in a wide arc around her as he made his way back into the tent. He heard her enter behind him then secure the flap with its ties.</p><p>“Make yourself comfortable. And please finish dressing properly. I’ll be back in a moment.” She said wearily.</p><p>“Where do you go?” he demanded.</p><p>“I’m getting wine. I’d wager you need some. I know I do.” She said. “Then we’ll talk.”</p><p>*     *     *</p><p>When she returned she seemed more calm, though she still did not look him in his face. Dee-Ann had redressed himself and sat, still brandishing the knife, on his heels. He was ready to launch himself at her if she tried to attack him. He had been wrong. This was not what the God wished. If she tried to touch him he would stab her with the knife and run into the night.</p><p>She had two cups in her hand and a full bladder of wine. She moved slowly around the tent, lighting more candles and settling herself on a cushion facing him. She set the cups down on a small carpet between them and poured them each a measure of wine from the bladder. He did not make to touch his cup until he had watched her take a sip.</p><p>“You can put that down.” She said swallowing, pointing her chin at his knife. “You’ve nothing to fear from me. In fact I’d wager you’ve never been safer in your life.” She added this last almost as if she was speaking to herself.</p><p>“You said you wanted to talk. Talk.” He said transferring the knife to his right hand and reaching for the cup of wine with his left.</p><p>“I am sorry Dee-Ann. I apologize.” She said. “I wasn’t expecting…..you startled me and I reacted…well you saw.” She paused to take another sip. “I didn’t mean to frighten or insult you. I’ve just never seen a naked man before and I…..”</p><p>Dee-Ann frowned. “You did not find me pleasing?” he demanded heat rising in his voice.</p><p>“No!” she said then quickly made a motion with her hand to keep him quiet when she saw the murderous rage flash through his eyes. “I mean….you are very well shaped. I just……what I mean is…..that is…of course you are…pleasing I mean, it’s just that I don’t…”</p><p>“Speak plain” Dee-Ann interrupted her stupid mutterings.</p><p>“I’m a Cowan.” She blurted.</p><p>Dee-Ann simply looked at her. It was clear she expected him to know what that was. But he had never heard this word. So instead he said nothing. Long moments passed and it became clear that she would not speak again until he said something.</p><p>“I don’t know what that means.” He admitted finally.</p><p>“You don’t?” she asked smiling, though there was no laughing in her eyes. If anything she looked pained, and Dee-Ann found himself wondering if she was about to waste water, but instead she spoke again. “I don’t like men.”</p><p>He pondered this for a moment. What a stupid thing to say. “I don’t like you either.” He said sulkily.</p><p>“I hadn’t guessed.” She said though there was a smile in her eyes now. “No. I mean…..I don’t fuck with men. I don’t want to. Their bodies do not appeal to me.”</p><p>He sipped his wine, feeling a wrinkle appear between his eyes. “You prefer cunt to cock?” he asked to make sure he understood her correctly.</p><p>“Yes.” She said and the look of anguish washed over her face again. For a short while neither of them spoke. He had never heard of such a thing. In the Village in the Savage East, the Woman would often accuse her Daughters of fucking with other women as a way of demeaning them when they had displeased her. But Dee-Ann had always understood it only to be an insult. He did not know there were actually Women who were not interested in cock. Did that mean there were men who did not want to fuck women? Aaaaaiiiiiieeeeeee!!!! He had come a long way from the dirty he-brat squatting under the table, but there was still so much of this world that remained a complete mystery to him.</p><p>He realized after a while that the girl Chaala was watching him closely. She was waiting for him to speak, and it was clear from her face that he had been silent for a long time.</p><p>“Well?” she asked eventually.</p><p>“Well what?” he countered.</p><p>“You don’t have anything to say?” she asked sounding almost angry.</p><p>“Say what? I am not what you want. What else is there to say?” he said flatly.</p><p>“And you don’t care?” the girl asked looking confused.</p><p>“No.” he admitted finally. He had the feeling something larger was happening here. But he did not understand what it was. So instead he spoke what was in his heart. “I did not want to fuck you either.” He added.</p><p>It was true. If the God had demanded it of him he would have done it. Anything for the God. But in his heart, his flesh did not quicken at the thought. He had thought he wanted to fuck with Maeghara. But that had been because he loved her. It was not her shape or her face that had excited him.</p><p>“Then may I ask, why were you……?” she asked motioning with her hand to her bedroll.</p><p>“I thought it was the bargain that I had made with your mother. I told her I was unsullied and that if she took me from Et-Banotaj that I would lick her cunt. Instead she brought me to you and told me to serve you in whatever way you wanted. So….” He said with a shrug. He did not remember when he had dropped the knife from his hand. Only that his knife hand was now free to refill his empty wine cup.</p><p>“And you thought that meant letting me take your maiden seed?” Chaala asked. Her voice was soft now, and she spread herself out on a cushion to sit more comfortably. She sounded like the stupid tutor now. Always speaking in pretty pictures and making the world sound like the poems Dee-Ann had been forced to learn.</p><p>He had no patience for poetry. “You mother does not now about you does she?”</p><p>The girl’s face fell and she straightened up. She did not answer immediately. Instead she shook her head and drank deep of the wine. “I think she grows suspicious. She often sends one of the pretty dancer boys with a tray to my tent late at night. And when last we were in a city she paid a Harrowspex for a potion that would strip a child from my womb if I needed it.”</p><p>Dee-Ann’s eyes grew wide. His hand groped for his Scorpion amulet against his chest. But it was still tucked safely in the sash. Such a thing was a stoning sin. It spit in the eye of the God.</p><p>“What will she do if she does learn the truth?” he asked.</p><p>At this the girl Chaala’s expression turned a mix of sour and sad, then she smiled. “Who knows?” she said refilling her wine cup. “Beat me. Banish me I suppose? Perhaps kill me.” She added. “But I think not. I may be a Cowan, but I am her only remaining daughter. All my sisters are dead. Lost to the wars of Novakar.”</p><p>Dee-Ann did not know what to say to this. So he let his tongue stay silent.</p><p>“Will you tell her?” Chaala asked meeting his eyes after a short silence. He pondered this. If he told the woman Bara-bhur that her daughter had rejected him, he could improve his position within the Caravan. The woman might take pity on him and reward him for his show of honesty and loyalty. But it would come at the cost of great turmoil for the girl Chaala. Dee-Ann did not have any particular fondness for the girl. But he did not have any greater love for her mother. He remembered the stupid goa slaves in Maeghara’s villa. Always sniping at each other and scraping for any small advantage they would gain. They clucked like chickens before the slave Ashar for an extra crust of bread, or a bit of cheese.</p><p>He would not be like a goat slave.</p><p>“I gain nothing from telling her anything.” He answered.</p><p>The look that painted itself over her face was like a crack in a bucket. All her water seemed to come spilling out. And Dee-Ann thought she looked more like the Man from the Village than any woman he had ever seen in that moment.</p><p>“I will not forget this kindness.” She said making to touch on of his bare feet, but he pulled it out of the way. She smiled. She left the tent to get another bladder of wine, and they settled back against the cushions. Now that they were both more relaxed the girl Chaala spoke freely about herself. She told story after story, like kernels of corn dropping from a basket. She told him of a young blacksmith girl she had met on their travels – for Bara-bhur’s troop went wherever the work took them – who had let the girl Chaala kiss her and had played with her cunt. She told him of a number of cunning ways that Cowan women identified one another. Apparently there was a particular way to knot a scarf around their necks, particular amulets braided into their godbraids; and even a practice of wearing a jewel only in their left ear. Dee-Ann listened attentively. It was very interesting.</p><p>She even told him about Cowan boys. Dee-Ann listened with rapt attention. He wondered if he had ever met one. For the first time in a long time, he was reminded of how much of this world he did not understand. He did not want to appear foolish in front of the girl Chaala, but he knew he would have much to think about when he was alone.</p><p>“And what of your mother?” he asked eventually.</p><p>“Well…..I was thinking. Perhaps we could…pretend? My mother won’t give either of us any peace until she is sure her plan has been successful. And I’m sure she will be generous with her gratitude.” She spoke as if she did not know what she wanted to say, gesturing with her hands as if she were kneading a loaf of bread. “At least until we reach the city.”</p><p>“You want to lie.” Dee-Ann said flatly. It was clear from his voice that he did not like this plan. Lying offended the God. And he remembered the Godspeaker in Et-Banotaj with her hand of power. If he lied for this girl and was caught he would be smitten just as those two drunk Traders had been.</p><p>“It would not harm anyone. You don’t know what she is like when she gets angry.” Chaala said. “And besides. I didn’t think you would have a problem lying. You’ve been lying since you arrived here.”</p><p>He scowled at her. “What do you mean?” he demanded.</p><p>“Please.” She said pulling a face. “My mother has all the wit of an ox and it has made her gullible. But I am no ox. Your story is full of holes.”</p><p>“I told you. My Mother died and…..” he stammered, feeling his cheeks turning red.</p><p>“Yes, yes I know. But I have been watching you. What noblewoman’s son knows so much of slaughtering animals, and cooking and cleaning?” the girl asked.</p><p>“We were no rich. All the he-brats in my village have to work.” He said quickly.</p><p>“And that’s another thing. You say you are from Todorok Village. But I say you are not. Todorok is South West of Et-Banotaj and many weeks hard caravanning. They speak a different dialect to the common tongue there. Heavily peppered with the languages of the South and even the East. I haven’t quite worked out where you might be fromyou’re your almost perfect Novaki tells me…..” she began and he interrupted her.</p><p>“I have been to Todorok. Do you wish me to tell you what it looks like? I can describe the buildings and the roofs and the Godhouse and the Baths” Dee-Ann said triumphantly.</p><p>“Oh I believe you have visited there. Todorok is very small and quite remote. No one who had not passed through there at least once would even know the name. But you betrayed yourself when you told me you had been in Et-Haravelle.” Chaala continued.</p><p>“I passed through there on my way to Et-Banotaj. It was a long journey.” He said.</p><p>“Must’ve been. Especially since Et-Haravell is over two hundred miles from Todorok. In the opposite direction to Et-Banotaj. I can show you on the map if you like?” she offered, pointing to the rolled up map she usually carried with her. His anger boiled inside him like a snake fang in his heart.</p><p>“I see you Chaala.” He said through clenched teeth. She meant to threaten him. To bend him to her will by holding his lie like a sword over his throat. Aiiiieeee!!!! Another treacherous woman. His hand found the knife hilt and he gripped it tightly. “If you think I will let you make trouble for me I tell you now I will not! If you sharpen your tongue on my to your mother I will tell her everything about when I was naked in this tent!”</p><p>Her expression turned white and she put up her hands. “Peace Dee-Ann! I am not trying to threaten you. I’m sorry. I only…..I noticed that your story was not accurate and…..I’ve always been this way. I see a puzzle and I need to solve it. I would never betray you to my mother. Your reasons for lying are your own. But you know my greatest secret. I thought it was only fair that I learn a few of yours.”</p><p>“I am Dee-Ann of the God. I am its slave. That is as much and more than you or any other woman needs to know.” He said sharply.</p><p>“Very well. But I want you to know you really can trust me. And I would very much like to know more about you.” She said smiling. “I’m not going to fuck you….but….I think I would like it if we were friends.”</p><p>“Maybe someday.” He said. “But not today.”</p><p>“Fair enough. So? Will you help me with my mother? Just until we reach Et-Novakar. After that we never have to see each other again.” She said. He sat looking at her for a long time. If he agreed to this, he was afraid he might be slipping the noose around his own neck. This girl was asking for his trust. But he had trusted women before. And it had led him to disaster.</p><p>But he knew two things. She had trusted him. And far more importantly, if he did not agree to help her he would have to leave this caravan. This was a problem. He was far from anything and everything that he knew. Maeghara and Derubeis were still at his back. Had they traveled far enough from Et-Banotaj that he was safe? He didn’t know. His future was waiting in Et-Novakar. Of that much he was sure. But if he left, he would be alone, on foot; with a great distance between him and the city of cities.</p><p>He nodded slowly to the girl Chaala, watching her face melt into a smile. She refilled their cups and touched her full cup to his.</p><p>And with that, some silent bargain had been struck between them.</p>
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<a name="section0025"><h2>25. Journeys end in lovers meeting...</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Castiel stood on a stool in his dressing rooms, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. If he could’ve breathed deeply enough he would’ve sighed. He’d been all but finished dressing when the hem of his gown had snagged on the ludicrous heel of his boot and promptly torn. So here he was – arms quivering under the weight of all the extra fabric he was holding up – staring at himself while no less than two sewers applied their needles to fix his careless stepping. If it hadn’t taken the better part of an hour to get him into the thrice cursed thing he would’ve been happy to throw the lot off and simply wear something else. But almost as if he could read his mind the Mima who had painted him that morning had given him a murderous glare before he could even say anything.</p><p>His face and shoulders – left bare along with an unobstructed view of his collarbones – had been covered in a fine layer of gold dust, before the Mima had gone to work. Severe stripes of brown and blue and orange and yellow had been painted around his eyes and on his forehead. The Mima had then sat intricately painting delicate branches of plum blossoms snaking around his shoulders, neck and even on one side of his face before launching into a great spray of meticulously wrought artificial blossoms worked into his hair. His hair had been meticulously curled and woven with more flowers and leaves as it fell in a mass down his back.</p><p>The gown was a rich shade of orange, falling to the floor in cascading layers which descended in darkness from bright saffron at his waist – cinched impossibly small by the new stomacher the arrowsmith had presented him with – to deep amber where it pooled on the floor. To Castiel it came as no surprise that a woman responsible for making weapons of war, death and despair was also behind his undergarments. Just once, he thought how amusing it would be to see some battle hardened warrior woman have to get through the day wearing even half of what a man suffered to be beautiful in their eyes.</p><p>“Are you <em>quite</em> done?” he asked eventually, glaring down at the sewers in the mirror.</p><p>“Forgive me my Lord. The stitching is very narrow, and I am unfamiliar with this seam.” The older of the two said bowing his head.</p><p>He chastised himself. It wasn’t their fault. The gown had a ridiculously long train for something intended for wear in the daytime. He didn’t know how the men of Et-Jokriel did anything at all other than sit around sipping the tea the province was known for. Ever since his betrothal portraits had been sent to all corners of Mijak, it had become custom for Castiel to wear ensembles made up entirely of tribute sent by prospective suitors whenever he appeared in public. Apparently it was important that no one province be visibly favored over another until the official announcement during the Queen’s upcoming nameday celebrations.</p><p>To Castiel it seemed exactly like the ridiculous sort of nonsense women concocted to keep men busy. Everyone of any influence knew that the Queen would only marry her children to those Warlords that would bring her the greatest advantage. So what did it matter who sent the finest dresses and baubles and beads to the various princes and princesses of the Blood? But – as Gabriel had explained – there were more than enough courtiers and noblemen who had nothing better to do with their time than to gossip about the Princes of the Blood. There was even talk of noblemen who kept ledgers of how many times he and his brothers had been seen wearing a particular color or cut of gown.</p><p>To Castiel it had seemed no different to the usual court nonsense that he so despised. He had reasoned that he ought to grow accustomed to wearing the styles of the West – since that was where he was going – and be damned to anyone watching. It wasn’t until Gabriel explained it to him that the darker implications of the game became clear.</p><p>“And what if some nobleman were to go prematurely blabbing that you have already been betrothed to House Sha-tan to his wife?” Gabriel asked. “Who then sends a raven to the other warlords, who have all sent extravagant gifts and tributes to curry favor? You know how fragile women’s egos are my dove. Wars have been started for less.”</p><p>So he played along. Once the sewers were finally finished, he carefully hopped off the stool – for he was still growing accustomed to walking in the almost negligibly thin heel of his new boots – and started the day. His morning was packed to bursting with relatively menial tasks. First he rang the temple bell that summoned the Godspeakers to prayer. That meant seeing Kufu. The thought was enough to turn his stomach. But he’d managed it. And beyond the most basic of blessings when he’d been handed the hammer, they hadn’t spoken any more than necessary. The next hours were chewed up accepting and blessing some of the lower ranking nobles who had brought gifts for the Queen’s nameday. They varied from stags to baskets of fruit and the like. There was the odd parent who wanted to present a son coming of age that they wished to put forward as potential Body Servant or Knave for Castiel or one of his brothers. With all the wealthy Princesses and Noblewomen coming to the capital for the Queen’s nameday, it would be a veritable buffet for the men of the court hoping to snag a wife.</p><p>He breathed an audible sigh of relief when the doors of the Great Hall opened and Annanakiel came in to relieve him. After the morning sitting with one of the Sons of the Blood, more senior matters of Court were then addressed by one of the Queen’s Daughters. Castiel smiled as his sister approached. Gabriel was walking a few feet behind their sister, grinning evilly as he made a circling motion around his face and pointing his chin at their sister, and Castiel saw instantly what he was on about. Ana looked weary, and her face was a rather unflattering shade of pink from too long in the sun. She’d been away from the Capital for months on some errand of the Queen’s. Likely she would’ve been gone for longer were it not for these celebrations. But she looked well all things considered. He rose from his seat severely and walked down to meet her.</p><p>They paused approximately three feet from one another and greeted each other in the custom of the Blood when they were in public. Holding out their hands – left palm up, right palm down – and approached each other until their corresponding hands were above and below one another’s. They stood like that for the space of a breath, before Castiel felt the jewel at his throat pulse; even as he saw an identical jewel at Ananakiel’s throat glow with power.</p><p>“May the Light find you and See you always. May it keep you in its Protective Eye.” The intoned together.</p><p>Having greeted Ana officially, there was no need for the process to be repeated with Gabriel. They simply turned and watched as Ananakiel ascended the stairs leading up to the dais and sat down on the higher and more ornate chair the slaves were quick to bring out. Once Ana was properly installed, the brothers were free to walk out of the hall. As soon as they were out of sight from the public, they embraced. Or rather, they embraced as much as their respective ensembles allowed. Gabriel looked striking in a gown of bright pink organza, with narrow skirts gathered and draped about his hips and tightly cinched waist before launching into a dramatic cape that fell like a toga over his right arm. His amber hair was piled high on his head around a wire mesh that give it the look of a honey comb. And as Castiel came closer he could see that several cunning little honeybees – dipped in gold from what he could see – had been worked into his brother’s hair and even pinned in places across his gown. It was as extravagant an ensemble as he’d seen Gabriel adopt in recent months. But he supposed – knowing that once he married the Southern Princess he would be covered from head to toe – it was just as well that his brother take full advantage of the freedom while it lasted.</p><p>“Anything <em>good</em>?” Gabriel asked indicating the tables and tables where slaves were carefully packing the tributes the nobles had brought before Castiel.</p><p>“About the usual. But I have a list of potential handmaids and Body Servants if you’re interested.” Castiel said.</p><p>“Walk the ramparts with me.” Said Gabriel already looping his arm through Castiel’s and setting off. “And <strong>no</strong> thank you. I have enough servants to last me a <em>lifetime</em> thank you very much.”</p><p>Castiel grinned. It was true. Ever since Tran had taken him to the workhouse that day, Castiel had made it his mission to purchase as many of the wretches and orphaned children he could find and bring them into the Palace. The only problem with that plan was that he’d had to concoct a workable reason for doing so. He couldn’t well blurt out that he’d snuck out of the Palace with a now dead slave and seen the abysmal conditions they were living under. So instead he had lied and said that it was an unnecessary extravagance maintaining a full retinue of servants for him and his silings who might be put to better work elsewhere in the Palace, when these younger ones could do the same work for less pay.</p><p>The result was a runaway success. Every day more children were freed from the workhouses and brought to the Palace. The only drawback was – having spearheaded the idea – Castiel had been the first to suffer the effects of untrained servants attending to him. He’d grown all but accustomed to cold baths, poorly lit fires and broken cups and plates.</p><p>“Speaking of, how fares Lu-Cas?” Castiel asked quickly, not wanting to give Gabriel the chance to launch into a tirade about missing his old slaves.</p><p>“He thrives. I’ve apprenticed him to my Mima. The bees were his idea actually.” Gabriel said with a fond smile, indicating his costume. “I daresay his fondness for cherry tarts is beginning to show around his waist. But you know, there are a great many women who like a little something extra on a man to hold onto on cold winter nights.” He continued pulling a face. Castiel smiled. Something had frayed between him and Gabriel for a while after the business with the Harrowspex. Gabriel had sworn high and low that he’d had no idea the cursed witch would go to such lengths. And while Castiel believed him, it had been difficult for him to be around his brother for a long time. Though it had proven impossible to stay angry with him once Castiel had seen the gusto with which Gabriel had taken young Lu-Cas under his wing. In the space of a month the boy had shot up nearly a foot from proper nutrition alone. And despite Tran’s words still ringing in his ears about the cost of a slave braid, every time Castiel had seen young Lu-Cas he seemed to have a wide smile on his face. He would never be anyone’s idea of a beauty, but Castiel could think of far worse fates than learning to be a Mima.</p><p>“Don’t be vulgar.” Castiel chastised him, swatting playfully at his arm.</p><p>“Please. I’ve seen some of the books you have in that library of yours. And frankly, you ought to be ashamed of yourself.” Gabriel chuckled, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. They had reached the top of the stairs and stepped out into the open air. The walls around the Palace were very wide and in addition to spectacular views of the city, offered an almost unequaled amount of privacy as they walked. Their respective guards – while still insight – trailed a little ways behind them, which meant they could speak freely without fear of being overheard.</p><p>“Speaking of shameful correspondence, was that a chest from the Southern Isles I saw the porters delivering to your chambers the other day?” Castiel asked wistfully.</p><p>“Little brother.” Gabriel said stretching the words. “You’ve become a proper little <em>snoop</em>.”</p><p>“That’s not a denial.” He fired back.</p><p>“No it isn’t.” Gabriel said. “We’ve been corresponding. Just letters and the odd gift…I saw no harm in trying to get to know the woman I’m going to be bound to for eternity, a little better.” He continued. His voice sounded vaguely uninterested. Though their betrothal had not yet been officially announced, it had been all but confirmed that Gabriel was to marry the Princess Idan.</p><p>“And?” Castiel asked.</p><p>“She’s nice enough I suppose. She writes the letters herself, <em>that’s</em> not nothing. She is next in line for the throne so most of her letters is about her dedication to her people. And she’s very handsome.” Gabriel said.</p><p>“That’s not what I was asking and you know it.” Castiel said. “What do you think of her? Really? Not just as a future Warlord. She’s to be your wife.”</p><p>“She seems to be a good woman. Perhaps a bit dull but….what woman isn’t? And besides, there are ways around that. The marriage will have to be consummated of course. But once we’ve managed to produce an heir, she has assured me she has no intention of darkening the door of my bedchamber more than is strictly necessary.” Gabriel said speaking more practically than Castiel had ever heard him when it came to matters of fucking and the like.</p><p>“Really?” he asked incredulously, unable to keep from looking over his shoulder to make sure they were not within earshot of anyone else.</p><p>“As I understand it she already has a lover in the Palace. Obviously they can’t marry…..” Gabriel said pulling a face. “…but as far as I’m aware she means to make him a bound concubine. Their culture allows for that sort of thing among the ruling class. The rest is for the poets and bards to fill in.” Gabriel said.</p><p>“And the……?” Castiel asked wiping his hand in front of his face to imitate a veil.</p><p>“Ah yes. We’ve discussed it. The men are expected to be modest, but only in public. Idan has assured me that beyond public appearances – which from all accounts are few and far between for men at court – she won’t insist on me wearing their traditional garb. So there’s that.” Gabriel smiled wiping an imaginary drop of sweat from his forehead.</p><p>Castiel frowned. It all sounded so…..cold. The arrangement sounded so official and pragmatic. He couldn’t imagine Gabriel in such a life. “And you think that’ll be enough for you?” he asked.</p><p>“What is it you are waiting for me to say brother? I’m hardly the first man to suffer from an arranged marriage Cassie. It is just the way of the world. I do not foresee any great hardship marrying her. Light willing I’ll have children to content myself with. It could be worse.”</p><p>“But it could be<em><strong> better</strong></em>.” Castiel said emphatically. “To sacrifice all hope of love or passion or….”</p><p>“Don’t be a brat. That is the province of children and theater. We are the Princes of the Blood. Politics was always going to rule these kinds of decisions. I have made my peace with it….And the Southern Isles is a paradise compared to….some other places.” Gabriel said awkwardly before trailing off. Castiel knew he had spoken without thinking, and the truth head leaked out.</p><p>“You mean like where I’m going.” Castiel said flatly.</p><p>“I’m sorry pet.” Gabriel said sincerely.</p><p>“It’s fine.” Castiel said. “It’s true after all. No point in deluding ourselves.” He added bitterly.</p><p>Without thinking his hand traveled to his chest, feeling for the familiar weight of the amulet around his neck. Having thrown it across the room, he’d had to crawl on all fours to retrieve it later. He had grown accustomed to wearing it and didn’t like to be without it, no matter how useless the Harrowspex’s prognostications had been.</p><p>“You’re looking particularly beautiful today Cassie. Any particular reason?” Gabriel asked shaking him from his reverie. His voice was pitched high, and it was clear that Gabriel wanted to change the subject.</p><p>“I’m auditioning a new Mima.” Castiel said shaking his hair off his shoulders.</p><p>“Again?” Gabriel frowned. “That makes what….three now?”</p><p>“Four.” Castiel said.</p><p>“What was wrong with the last one?” Gabriel asked scandalized. “He came very highly recommended.”</p><p>“He was too fond of green. I looked like a bog creature. And I was going to go bald if I suffered him any longer.” Castiel said pulling his mouth into a hard line.</p><p>“And the one before that?” Gabriel asked.</p><p>“Stained my skin blue.” Castiel clicked his tongue.</p><p>“For a few days only.” Gabriel said waving a hand.</p><p>“They had to scrub my skin raw to get it off.” Castiel said cringing at the memory.</p><p>A dry breeze lapped at their skirts and hair as they came to a corner overlooking the Artisan District. “What’s the real reason?” Gabriel asked not looking at him. Castiel half smiled, tucking an errant forelock behind his ear.</p><p>“I don’t trust them.” He admitted softly.</p><p>“Dearest.” Gabriel said reaching for his hand. “Tran’s been dead for months now Castiel. It’s enough. You should forgive yourself.”</p><p>“He said he had betrayed me Gabriel. Betrayed all of us.” Castiel said bitterly. “And until I know what shape that betrayal took, I just…….can’t allow anyone to get too close.”</p><p>“To what end?” Gabriel asked. “Tran was in love with you. How you failed to notice that I’ll never know. But the fact remains. People do silly things when their hearts have been broken. Maybe he lied. I’d wager he probably just wanted to hurt you. And even if he wasn’t lying. Betrayal could mean anything. Maybe he pissed in your bath. Maybe he gave you a cruel nickname among the Palace slaves. Who knows?”</p><p>“Perhaps you’re right.” Castiel said unconvinced.</p><p>“You’re going to keep digging aren’t you?” It was not a question. Gabriel took him by the shoulders and turned him so they were looking at each other. After Tran Castiel had had to take Gabriel into his confidence in order to keep gathering the information he needed. Gabriel had been surprisingly open to helping him, though it seemed sometimes as if he still didn’t quite believe everything Castiel had told him.</p><p>“Cassie you need to stop this. I’ve indulged your little….project….because I know how difficult the entire business with Tran was for you. But there are limits to how much I can protect you. Just last week one of my guards swore they saw you sneaking into the Barracks office after hours.”</p><p>“I needed to consult a ledger.” Castiel said with a small shrug.</p><p>“My point is that you were <em>seen.</em> This is how rumors get started that can ruin a man’s reputation.” Gabriel cut in. “And people are starting to talk about you. Rumors flew high and low when Tran threw himself from your window.</p><p>“What rumors?” Castiel frowned.</p><p>“Do you really need me to spell it out for you?” Gabriel asked with an incredulous expression. “Now….a discreet bit of buggery between a beautiful young prince and his body servant would hardly be cause for a revolution….”</p><p>“Oh Gabriel don’t!” Castiel said frowning.</p><p>“My point is….if you are laboring under the impression that no one has taken notice of your seeming lack of even the remotest interest in women, you’re wrong.” Gabriel finished as if he had never spoken.</p><p>“People will always talk Gabriel. I have little interest in Palace gossip.” Castiel was quick to say dismissively.</p><p>“I’m not talking about gossip, I’m talking about you.” Gabriel said sharply. His voice was hard, and his eyes seemed to burn. “I know all of this….<em>investigation</em>….” he said disdainfully. “…has been a welcome distraction for you.”</p><p>“But the time has come to put off this nonsense. We the both of us need to start thinking more practically.”</p><p>“And why would I do that?” Castiel asked.</p><p>“<em><strong>Because she’s coming!</strong></em>” Gabriel hissed. “Li-Illitur is not an idea anymore, she’s a <em>reality</em>. Blink twice more and she will be here. And we have to start dealing with that reality not…..flapping about putting our noses into things that have nothing to do with us.”</p><p>“There are plots afoot in this Palace Gabriel. I heard it with my own two ears. And it involves some powerful people.” Castiel explained. He didn’t mention his nightmares or his visions that he had had of the future. Gabriel was very touchy about the fact that he had no inherent powers of his own. “Gabriel I’m close to something I can feel it. If you would just let me show you some of what I have uncovered.” Castiel said emphatically.</p><p>“Uncovered?!” Gabriel huffed a frustrated breath and threw his hands up in the air. “You are an impossible person.”</p><p>“Accurate.” Castiel said softly.</p><p>“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” Gabriel said still sounding more than a little angry.</p><p>“As you wish.” Castiel said.</p><p>They walked in silence for a little while. Castiel’s eye was caught by something very strange. Far below, one of the minor courtyards – or what should’ve been a courtyard – was positively covered in tents and wagons and fire pits and teeming with people. There must’ve been over two hundred tents.  </p><p>“What on <em>earth</em> is that?” he asked pointing.</p><p>“Oh.” Gabriel said coming to stand next to him. “For Mother’s nameday celebrations. They’re performers mostly. Jugglers and firebreathers and musicians and dancers and what have you. They’ve been pouring in for almost a week now from all corners. It’s fallen to me to put them up.”</p><p>“And you thought having them turn the Palace grounds into a gypsy village was the answer?” Castiel asked vaguely scandalized.</p><p>“Well what else did you expect me to do?” Gabriel asked. “They’re peasants. I couldn’t very well house them indoors. Even a Mima’s quarters would be fifty times above their station.”</p><p>“Can you imagine? Traveling all that way. The things they must’ve seen. All the stories they could tell?” Castiel asked leaning forward to rest his weight on the wall. He was too far away to actually hear anything, but he could see enough musicians balancing their instruments on their legs as they sat around the fires that he could only imagine all the different sounds.</p><p>“AH!” he said sharply feeling a stab of pain at his chest.</p><p>“What’s wrong?” Gabriel asked sharply.</p><p>“My necklace….” Castiel said pulling it free. “It burned me.”</p><p>Even now the little horned face was too hot to touch, and Castiel held it by the cord it was strung on.</p><p>Gabriel looked befuddled. “Strange. Perhaps it caught some sun.”</p><p>“Perhaps…..” Castiel said.</p><p>Abruptly, the wind kicked up from the opposite direction to which it had been blowing, whipping his skirts about his legs and sending his hair cascading over his shoulders. On instinct he straightened up and tried to gather his hair out of his face before it could stick to the Mima’s paint and ruin it. His sleeve snagged on something and pulling it free, he felt something dislodge. It was one of the delicate pins holding his hair in place. It was decorated with feather light silk plum blossoms.</p><p>“Oh dear.” He said chuckling as Gabriel tried to help him.</p><p>“Don’t worry I’ve got you.” Gabriel said with a smile in his voice as they both fought to free him..</p><p>It was hopeless. Now that one thick curlicue of hair had been freed from the mass, the whole thing seemed doomed to come down. Resigning himself to it, Castiel pulled out a few more pins until his hair hung completely loose down his back, shaking it free so it danced on the air behind him.</p><p>“I assume you’ll be needing a new Mima.” Gabriel chuckled.</p><p>“Quite.” Castiel said looking down at his hands. The near invisible threads of blossoms had all snapped in the struggle. Rather than try to salvage them, Castiel threw the cunning little blossoms into the air, letting the damnable wind have them. In an instant they were all but gone, floating off in the direction of the gypsy camp.</p><p>“It’s so…colorful.” Castiel said, looking at the tents and seeing all the different cooking fires.</p><p>“It’s vile. Just keeping them watered and fed is making my hair go prematurely gray I tell you. And don’t get me started on security. I’ve had to liaise with the Nerissa’s honor guard. And let me tell you, if you thought her head was swollen with power after that campaign she led in the Peregrine Reach; you were dead wrong. I…..” Gabriel continued, but Castiel wasn’t listening anymore.</p><p>He rubbed at the spot on his chest and took the amulet in his hand. It was very warm. And Castiel couldn’t help but glance over his shoulder at the makeshift camp of strangers that had somehow appeared right here inside the walls of his familiar little world.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. ....this known by every wise man's son</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><strong>Godsmite</strong> <em>(noun)</em> [/’Gαd/sm’aî’t/] –</p><p><em>(verb)</em> – ARCHAIC</p><p>a) “She had the godsmite on her for her wickedness.”</p><p>b) “She was godsmitten as punishment.”</p><p><em>(noun)</em> -</p><p>A broad umbrella term in common Novaki for all “supernatural” powers attributed to acolytes and fully fledged Godspeakers.</p><p>
  <em>                                      See also: Godspeaker [disambiguation] Godstone [noun]</em>
</p><p>It is important to note that while this definition is most commonly attributed to curses or pronouncements, it can contextually be used – particularly in writing – to encapsulate as well specific aspects and schools of study/training within the greater whole. This includes:</p><p><strong>The Truthsay</strong> – The ability to analyze micro expressions and “taste” the thoughts of a speaker to weed out lies. Important to note that this ability is almost exclusive to incumbents of the Order.</p><p>
  <em>                                     See also: Truthsay [disambiguation] Reverend Mother [nickname] Truthsayer [slang] Spider Castiel Novakar [person] Heir of the Blood Moon [nickname]</em>
</p><p><strong>Pala</strong> – The ability to draw power directly from the God through the sacred spells and incantations inked directly into the skin of the acolyte to perform the God’s miracles.</p><p>
  <em>                                    See also: Pala [disambiguation] Inkvine plant (n), Marque (n)</em>
</p><p><strong>Venda</strong> – Commonly referred to as – piercing the veil – the ability to divine the future through physical agony.</p><p>
  <em>                                   See also: Venda [disambiguation] Scorpion Pit (n) Scorpion Pit (ritual) Brothers of Venom (Gr.)</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>Excerpt from The Codex Medulanum 5th Edition</strong>
</p><p>*</p><p>“Of Godspeakers, my father never spoke overmuch. Despite his much rumored disdain for the true Faith. As a child I remember him having only this to say: “It has been my experience of zealots – of any kind – that they are three-faced and six-hearted. At least in pursuit of such trivialities as truth.”</p><p>
  <strong>Excerpt from the personal diaries of Princess Kla’ara before her coronation.</strong>
</p><p>*_*_*_*_*_*_*</p><p>Dee-Ann woke early, as had become his custom. He removed the girl Chaala’s arm from around his waist where she lay curled up next to him, and washed himself in a basin of cold water. After they had agreed to play out the farce that they were fucking, Chaala had insisted that he sleep in her bed. It had been awkward at first, but they soon grew used to it. Their deception had come to include other things. Dee-Ann had grown used to the stares and taunts from other women in the camp as the girl Chaala had taken to boasting of their nighttime pleasures. Several times he had heard them making smirking jabs at her, saying things like:</p><p>“We’ll be crossing the border tomorrow. But of course Chaala will be spending the night in Todorok Village.”</p><p>The woman Bara-bhur did nothing to hide her bliss. Many nights around the fire – where Dee-Ann now ate his lowsun meal, sitting next to the girl Chaala – she would drink too much wine and begin speaking of how clever she had been.</p><p>“Knew he was hidin something tempting under them rags I did. Skinny as a plucked chicken he was when he showed up at my tent. Been feasting right and proper now though ain’t he!”</p><p>Everyone had laughed raucously. And the girl Chaala had blushed. But even Dee-Ann knew that there was no evil in this laughing. In the weeks that had followed, it was as if some tension had eased. He found himself welcomed into the troupe in a way he had not before. And his work became less and less, allowing him more time to practice riding learning to read maps.</p><p>The weeks stretched into a month on the road. The landscape grew strange. Dee-Ann saw such plants and trees as he had never seen. And the air grew colder than Dee-Ann had ever felt. They had traveled through lands he had never heard of. Et-Taklikar. Et-Mamiklia. Et-Tabr. They were currently in a province called Et-Reichel, which the girl Chaale told him was one of four provinces that directly bordered with Et-Novakar. So far from the Savage East and Et-Banotaj, Dee-Ann again found himself learning new words. Words like Ice. Frost. Snow.</p><p>The first time he had pulled back the flap of the tent and seen the entire word covered in white, he had thought he was mad. It was beautiful. And Dee-Ann had give offering to the God. That snow was an omen. The God was blessing him. The God knew its beautiful slave Dee-Ann was coming.</p><p>On the third day however, the snow had fallen so thick that the caravan had had to come to a halt while the women shoveled it out of the way with shovels and baskets. The Harrowing woman had sacrificed a calf, slitting its throat and spilling its blood on the snow until it had turned pink and filthy. She ate its tongue and made strange noises into the wind. The girl Chaala said it was a kind of magic. She was making spells to improve the weather. Dee-Ann turned away. He did not like that woman. She made him uneasy. She stalked about the Caravan, always clacking beads and stirring strange potions over the fire. She poured powders which made smoke, or turned the fire strange colors of pink and red and green. She claimed she could heal flesh that was torn and even read the future in the gutted remains of animals. Dee-Ann did not speak to her. She did not serve the God. It was deaf to her.</p><p>There were others in the Caravan Dee-Ann did not like. It became clear to him as time passed that only very few of their number were performers. There were only ten dancers and twice as many musicians in the troupe. He had tried to ask the girl Chaala a few times about the others but she had dismissed him. They were mostly women. All of them were built powerfully, and seemed to have the look of danger about them. At first he had assumed they must be former soldiers. Yet some of them looked too young. They kept to themselves, venturing from their tents and caravans only rarely. But Dee-Ann knew they were always busy. They had a forge fitted onto the back of a metal carriage, and he could sometimes hear loud hammering coming from their copse of tents. Twice he had tried to venture there to see for himself. And both times the woman Bara-Bhur had stopped him with a hand on his shoulder, giving him another task to perform.</p><p>*     *     *</p><p>That night when the Caravan had still not moved and all had fallen asleep, Dee-Ann had stalked off away from the sleeping Caravan. He removed a silver godbell from his pouch. He dug a small hole in the frozen snow with his fingers until he felt the frozen earth beneath and his hands were pink and shivering. With his knife, he sliced a handful of his beard – which was growing longer every day – and struck the flintstone he had taken from the Cooks wagon until it sparked and made a small fire. He watched as the tiny flame sputtered to life. It would go out soon. But it did not matter.</p><p>“I am here God. But I cannot reach you until the snow is melted. I beg you. Send us a way to get through this mountain pass and reach Et-Novakar.”</p><p>He had grown accustomed to speaking to the God. He knew it was a stoning sin should any Godspeaker ever learn of a he-brat who was so overconfident. But he knew the Good would keep him safe. He rang the tiny bell in his hand over the flame, before covering up the bell with more snow in the spot he had cleared. It was a tiny offering. But he would make up for it when he reached Et-Novakar. He would go to the Godhouse and make an offering in a proper Godbowl. He would pray to the God in its own House and wait for its answer there.</p><p>*     *     *</p><p>In the end, the Caravan had been unable to move for three days, before a fist of Et-Novakar Warriors had found them. They too were traveling on the Queen’s Road to Et-Novakar. Dee-Ann smiled when he saw them, seeing the finger of the God pointing him on its way in the weak sunlight glinting off their skin and leather breastplates. After that they caravanned hard to remain with the Warriors. They navigated a treacherous mountain pass before they met a wall of snow that had filled up a narrow gorge. They made camp there for nearly a week while the warriors and the caravan hacked away at the icy snow and the Harrowing woman continued her strange blessings and sacrifices. The Warriors did not travel with a Godspeaker. Instead their ranks were filled with people unlike any Dee-Ann had ever encountered.</p><p>There were spear carriers, powerful women who rose on horseback and could lift enormous weights above their heads as if they were like a feather. There were archers and slingshot throwers who would hone their skills on a small pack of meat goats the woman Bara-bhur had gifted them as payment for their aid. Dee-Ann watched with rapt attention. A good strike would drop a goat dead with its skull crushed. No differently a woman. And an arrow through the heart would kill any living thing. It took much meat to feed a war host and the Caravan, so the Cook was only to happy to let the warrior practice in the slaughter pit and have the cook slaves – and Dee-Ann – drag away the carcasses. But Dee-Ann’s favorite among the warriors were the knife dancers.</p><p>The woman Bara-bhur – having spotted Dee-Ann’s fascination with them – explained that in battle, the last desperate and crucial moments were often reduced to this. Another warrior’s glinting eyes, the knifeblade glinting in her hand. Dirt churned to bloody mud, slippery and treacherous. She who was fastest, strongest; most determined to survive. A knife dancer who forgot her steps, was a dead woman dancing on a grain of sand. Dee-Ann could do nothing but marvel as they trained and sparred every highsun and slowsun. Watching them weave and glide and move through their hotas - knife dance patterns passed down from warrior to warrior from the world’s first newsun.</p><p>Dee-Ann had taken to imitating them, in the shadows of night when no one could see him. He used a stick instead of a blade. But he found that the motions of knife dancing were not so different from the dances he had learned from the Stupid Tutor. He was gratified that after the first few days, his limbs remembered their grace and suppleness. After a few days of carefully watching them as they drummed the earth with their feet and cut the air – Dee-Ann knew mot of the hotas by heart. There were only few of them he could not perform. Most notably, a complex maneuver called the Wayward Son.</p><p>It involved a complex series of turns where the blade was passed from hand to hand, before ending a great arching leap that would bring the blade down between a woman’s eyes. He had yet to perform it once. He could leap into the air well enough. But there were many technical points he had not mastered and as he tried again for the umpteenth time, his feet came together too late and his weight was in the wrong place. He faltered  mid-spin and ended up dropping his stick blade.</p><p>Unexpectedly, a woman laughed behind him.</p><p>He turned sharply. It was one of the warriors. He had seen her about. All of her hair was red as a slavebraid, though it was strange. She wore no godbraids, yet her hair hung like a scorpion tail all down her back, long enough to kiss her thighs. She had a warriors build, strong and solid, but the proportions of her body were hidden by the armor she wore. It was not leather. It was metal, polished to a high shine and hammered with a symbol on the breastplate Dee-Ann had never seen. She stood leaning against a tent post and it was clear she had been watching him for a while.</p><p>She chuckled again as she pushed off, stepping towards him. She bent to retrieve his stick. Dee-Ann sighed through his nose, his breath still coming hard from dancing.</p><p>“Your form is terrible.” She said lazily. “And your balance betrays a lack of skill. If this was a real fight you would die in a heartbeat. But you have some grace.” She added sounding amused.</p><p>“You like my knife dancers?” she asked with a smirk. She was ruddy, but her features were handsome enough. Her demeanor told him that she was aware of the fact. She possessed the same oily, overconfident sort of charm Maeghara had wielded. It made his blood boil. Dee-Ann fought the urge to glare at her. He did not like the way she was looking at him. Even through the beard and unkempt tangle of his hair, she was looking at him the way he remembered from his dead life when he had been beautiful.</p><p>Dee-Ann noticed she had markings inked into her skin like a Godspeaker. Only this woman’s tattoos were golden instead of black. Aiiieeeeeee!!!!! He did not think he had enough counting to think of a sum large enough to pay for such a protection.</p><p>“Yours?” he asked scrunching up his face.</p><p>“Yes. I am the Captain of this Warrior shell.” She said making a sweeping motion with his stick to indicate the Caravan. “You have unusual coloring for this part of the world. What are your bloodlines? What woman birthed you? You’re young to be traveling alone in the world.” she remarked as her gaze dragged lazily over his body before settling on his face. She held out his stick, but when he made to take it from her; she whipped it back with a toothy grin.</p><p>He grit his teeth behind his lips, but didn’t speak. If he wanted to take his stick back he would have to step closer to this woman. He had seen women do this enough times. She wanted to wrap her arms around him. He would not let her.</p><p>"Carry on then." she said after a moment. "Show me your <em>Wayward Son</em>."</p><p>She was laughing at him. But he did not care. He began the complex sequence of steps, and he almost managed it. But he overbalanced and he found himself in the dirt once more. She offered him a hand. He did not take it.</p><p>“My women have noticed you watching them in their training.” She said. Dee-Ann glared.</p><p>“Have I broken some rule?” he asked.</p><p>“Surely not. But it’s not every day we see a boy trying to imitate us.” She chuckled. “Aren’t most boys your age more concerned with hair and dresses and pretty combs and painting their faces to impress soldiers like me?”</p><p>“I don’t know, or care; what other boys my age are interested in.” Dee-Ann said flatly. He didn’t say that he did not care about impressing this woman either. It was written on his face and in his voice like the markings of a sand snake.</p><p>“That’s a curious accent. I like it.” she mused passing his stick to her other hand. “Why don’t you have a slave braid?” she asked, still smirking her oily smirk and looking at him as if she was picturing him without his tunic.</p><p>“Why don’t you?” he asked squaring his chin.</p><p>“I am Princess Ananakiel of Et-Novakar. Fourth daughter of Queen Elspeth and First spear of her armies.” She said slowly, seeming to enjoy the taste of the words as she spoke them. “And who might you be?”</p><p>“I am Dee-Ann of Et-Novakar.” He said.</p><p>“Then it would seem you belong to me too.” She said cocking her head to one side and lifting her eyebrow.</p><p>Dee-Ann lifted his chin defiantly. “I belong to the God with no name. I am its creature.”</p><p>“All creatures who walk in the Light belong to the God. And all who walk in Et-Novakar….belong to my Mother. And therefore, to me.” The woman said. Dee-Ann leveled her with his stare. Tcha! He could see through her pretty words to her true meaning. She was lusting after him. She thought she could claim him.</p><p>“Will the Caravan leave tomorrow?” he asked.</p><p>“That is not for me to say. It is a matter of timing. And timing is a matter of omen. When the God decrees we move, we will move.” The Princess said. “Till then we have time enough to enjoy the simple pleasures the road has to offer.”</p><p>She gestured with his stick, and Dee-Ann saw his chance. He snatched it back, free of her grasp; and tucked it into his belt.</p><p>“You fashion yourself a warrior?” she asked sounding amused. “What is your purpose here? Are you dancer? Do you sing?” she asked scanning him with her eyes again.</p><p>“Right now I am Dee-Ann killer of chickens and slaughterer of goats and lambs.” He answered swiping a drop of sweat that had escaped from his hair on the back of his arm. “Until I reach Et-Novakar.”</p><p>“And after that?” she asked.</p><p>“I will be whatever the God desires me to be.” Dee-Ann said frankly.</p><p>“And if the God desires you to be mine? To ride on my horse and sleep in my tent?” she asked with a leer.</p><p>“Then the God…can tell me itself.” Dee-Ann said turning and walking back to the Cook’s tent. He did not look back. But he could feel the woman’s hungry eyes following him as he went.</p><p>*     *     *</p><p>The caravan did not leave the next day, or the day after. Only on the third newsun had the temperature risen enough that the frozen snow remembered it had once been water, and allowed them through the narrow mouth cut into the mountain side. Dee-Ann returned to his duties as normal. After his interlude with the Princess he did not go to any pains to seethe Warriors anymore. They had lost something of their shine. He did not see the red haired woman again, and he was not sorry. She made his skin crawl. It was a feeling he did not enjoy. It was too close to fear. Too close to a reminder of the naked nameless he-brat under a table in the faraway village in the Savage East.</p><p>As the caravan resumed its progress toward the shining city of Et-Novakar, Dee-Ann remembered the road and its familiar routines. He scrubbed pots and pans. He butchered carcasses and prepared salted goat and corn mush. It was just like traveling with Maeghara and Derubeis – except for the complaining. He wondered about the Traders sometimes. Had they ever tried to look for him? Had they given him up as dead? Had they beaten that stupid slave Ashar as he deserved? It did not matter. That was his dead life. Like the Village in the East. He would begin a new life soon. He was eager for it like the caravan dogs slavered for bits of chicken gizzard.</p><p>When he finished his camp work, he took a lit torch and his sharpened stick and crouched on a patch of snow behind the cook’s camp. There he saw practicing his letters. Reading and writing were important. If they were not, Maeghara would never have spent coin on them. He would not lose his reading and writing. They made him different. They made him special. So many of the women in the caravan did not know how to read. The girl Chaala had been mightily surprised when she had discovered he understood the papers and books she had strewn around her tent.</p><p>“I will serve the God better if I read and write.”</p><p>Serving the God was his purpose in the world.</p><p>At the Border Godpost between the lands of Et-Reichel and Et-Novakar, the Princess Ananakiel made sacrifice for the journey’s good outcome. She drank the hot bull calf blood and cut her breast with the sacrificial knife; and let her own blood drip into the sacrifice bowl.</p><p>Dee-Ann was impressed. That was a true sacrifice. To give the God her own blood. The people of Et-Novakar were strong. They loved the God. He would be one of them. And what must come would come soon enough.</p><p>*     *     *</p><p>That night around the fire, the woman Bara-bhur laughed as the caravan received special permissions to continue through the city and all the way into the Palace. They would be housed there until after the Queen’s nameday.</p><p>“Bet havin’ this many strangers right up on her doorstep will give the ole Bitch some fat to chew. May she choke on it and rot in hell.” She said slapping her knee where she sat across from Dee-Ann. They were alone for the moment. The girl Chaala would be joining them soon. Dee-Ann half shrugged. He did not know what to say. The woman Bara-Bhur was not happy that soon he would be leaving them. He was the best Cook brat she had. She had pressed him several times if he was still resolute to leave when they arrived at Et-Novakar, and expressed that she wanted him for the girl Chaala. But she was just a small woman in a small troupe of dancers and singers. Her want did not matter. She was a small, nothing sort of a person; whose life left no footprints on the world. Not like a Warlord.</p><p>‘Not like me.’ He thought cruelly to himself.</p><p>Still, Dee-Ann had learned much from her during their time together.</p><p>“You do not like the Queen?” he asked. He had heard her speak thusly enough times. But now that they were here it seemed a strange thing that she should voice her hate so loudly.</p><p>“Fought and bled for her in two of her wars I did. Then I sacrificed two of my daughters to the ones she started when I grew too old and decrepit to do much more fighting. And for what? Her taxes? Some speck of shit on the edge of the map she wanted to claim as her own? Some young bronco she wanted to fuck that weren’t hers to begin with?” the woman said with bile in her voice. “And ain’t it always the way. Were the Queen what done the fuckin. But it were soldiers like me and my daughters what did the dying.”</p><p>“We are not at war now.” Dee-Ann said softly.</p><p>“There’s a curse in that woman. You mark my words. Won’t be long now. Be the good ole bad days all over again.” The woman Bara-bhur said. “Women like her ain’t built for peace.”</p><p>“But you’re performing for her?” Dee-Ann asked.</p><p>“I’ll take her coin. And anything else she has to offer. I’ve more than done my share and earned it.” she said. “And the God see me in its eye, she’s earned what’s coming to her.”</p><p>Dee-Ann felt a strange coldness settle over him at her words. He wanted to ask what the woman was talking about but they were interrupted by the Princess Ananakiel appearing next to the fire. She was stripped of her armor and wore only a thick woolen tunic and breeches under a wide hooded cloak. She stood facing the pair of them, planting her legs and placing her hands on her slender hips.</p><p>“Just making the rounds.” She said by way of both explanation and greeting.</p><p>“Right you are.” Said the woman Bara-Bhur. “Will you warm yourself by the fire?” she asked.</p><p>“I am afraid I cannot tarry. I dine with my warhost. We have our traditions in these last few nights before we return home. It is going to be a lively night. You should join us.” The Princess invited.</p><p>“Perhaps later. But I thank ye for thinking of me.” The woman Bara-Bhur said around a thick swallow of ale.</p><p>“All Novaki subjects are of concern to me.” She said. She gave a wink to Dee-Ann, before turning lazily and walking off. Dee-Ann glared at the back of her head. He had hoped she had forgotten about him. He could see now she had not.</p><p>“Don’t go wasting yer blushes and secret smiles on that one. She’s a wily one. I’d wager she has a soft bed and a hard cock in every town and village from here all the way to the grassy ocean.” The woman Bara-Bhur said.</p><p>Dee-Ann shot her a disapproving glare. “I am not interested in her.” He said smartly.</p><p>“And a good thing too. Soldiers make for poor bedfellows. And Royal ones even moreso.” The woman said refilling his tankard with ale. Dee-Ann did not like ale. But he had learned it was easier to accept it than to argue with this pouring. The woman Bara-Bhur did not like to drink alone, and as long as he sat there and let her talk she would be insensible before long. “You find yourself a bookish woman. One what don’t know how to find the pointy of a blade. You may never know the inside of a grand house or a weighty coin purse. But she’ll be there to protect you the next time that Novaki Bitch Queen feels an itch in her sword hand.”</p><p>This last was said with such bitterness and anger Dee-Ann felt his skin dimple with gooseflesh.</p><p>“You husband. Chaala’s father.” He said. He did not ask. The question was plain. The woman Bara-Bhur drank from her tankard deeply, wiping her mouth on her sleeve before looking deep into the flames. Painful past was written in her eyes as she said simply.</p><p>“Richese War band.” She all but spat. “Passed through our hamlet looking for grain and ale. There weren’t no one left who knew how to stop em taking whatever they wanted. Nothing but men and children left to keep the home fires burnin. Every able bodied woman was off fightin Elspeth’s war. She’d disgraced herself on a young Warlord’s husband. Called her banners she did.”</p><p>“D’you know something of what happens when an enemy war band sacks a village?” she asked meeting his gaze. He simply shook his head. He did not know. But he could imagine.</p><p>“Bad way to go.” The woman said. “Came back, after all the fighting and warring and killing were done…..only to find my house burned to the ground. Along with everything else. Left him there they did. Hanging from a tree outside our house. Were left to me to slice the father of my children down and put him in the dirt. Weren’t much left to bury by then. Birds had gotten to him. And the rats. Is a funny thing…..” She trailed off.</p><p>“Singing songs about those same wars is what put bread on my table all these years I’ve had to feed my daughters by my onesie. But not one of them songs mentions the rats. Or the stink. And the flies and suck-you-drys what are drawn to it.” she said gravely.</p><p>Dee-Ann did not know what to say. He felt the woman Bara-Bhur’s pain though he did not know how to express it, or what to do that might bring her some measure of comfort. Instead they just sat staring into the fire.</p><p>“You listen to old Bara-Bhur Dee-Ann of Todorok village. Before you set off into this pig shit world. You find yourself someone with no taste for blood and battle to give your heart to.” She said with a slow nod and a sad smile. “Die of old age, covered in children and grandchildren.”</p><p>‘That will not be my life.’ He thought to himself. Though he did not say it.</p><p>*     *     *</p><p>Ten highsuns after crossing the border, they reached the sprawling city of Et-Novakar. They had met no other Warrior shells on the road. But they had seen many other traveling caravans all on their way to the Capital for the Queen’s nameday celebrations. They passed workers in the fields. And despite the cold, Dee-Ann could see that the lands of Et-Novakar were lush and fat. Not brown and thin like some of the other lands he had traveled through. They arrived at the city gate two fingers after newsun, when the city of Et-Raklion was staring at first light. Dee-Ann could never in his wildest dreams have imagined such a place. It seemed endless. He could see very little of the city itself. It was completely hidden behind the tallest wall Dee-Ann had ever seen. It wrapped around the entire city as far as he could see in either direction. Made of stone. Not wood like the one built around Et-Banotaj. As they finally passed through the gate, Dee-Ann got his first proper glimpse of the city. It took his breath away.</p><p>He thought back to Et-Banotaj with contempt. Compared to Et-Novakar it was nothing. A hillock. He remembered himself as he was when he had first arrived there. Small and slaved and owned by Maeghara. Ignorant of his place in the God’s eye.</p><p>“He does not matter. That child is dead.” He said closing his Scorpion amulet in his fist.</p><p>The first two days in the city had passed with growing frustration. He had barely had any time to see anything of the city before they were locked inside the Palace. Of which he had seen even less. They had been escorted to a small open space that was choked with other Caravans and slaves and sounds and smells too different and too many for Dee-Ann to even identify. At every turn, Palace guards stalked and examined their every motion. The girl Chaala had taken to hovering over him and tying their tent tightly in the night so he had not even been able to sneak off and do his duty to the God as he had promised.</p><p>His anger was growing. To be so close and yet unable to do what he knew he must if he was to find his true path was galling him like rotten sadsa.</p><p>On the third day, he was growing ever more restless. His morning had been taken up feeding and watering and penning the goats and pigs and chickens, and helping the Cook prepare the highsun meal for the troupe. He then spent the next hours running buckets of salted meat and corn cakes and salvers of goat butter to the other members of the troupe. They were rehearsing their various tricks and performances in earnest and had gone to work building artificial buildings and trees they would need for their performance. Dee-Ann had taken to pushing balled up wax into his ears. At every turn he could hear people chitting and singing and tuning an instrument. It cleaved at his brain like lambs bleating in a pen. When it came time for his own highsun meal he had had enough. It was all too much. Too much noise. Too many people. Too many smells from too many cooking fires. To many feet. Too many animals. Just too…..MUCH! No wonder he could not hear the God. He would need to find a better way.</p><p>He stalked as far away from the cacophony of noise as the guards would allow, settling himself on a small patch of grass behind a low shrub to eat the bowl of goat stew the cook had doled out for him. He tore at the small roll of bread with his teeth and was about to dip it into his stew when he felt a sharp pain beneath his tunic.</p><p>Biting his lip hard enough to bring blood, he fished his hand inside his tunic to pull out his Scorpion amulet. It hung just as it always did, but for a moment Dee-Ann could swear he saw a glow pass within the stone body that almost made it seem alive. He blinked, letting it fall and pressing his hand to the small pin prick in his skin. A drop of his blood gleamed off the tail of the amulet, and Dee-Ann realized he must have twisted wrong and it had actually stung him on his chest. Annoyed, he licked the tiny drop of blood from the pad of his thumb, turning his face to let the cool breeze lick his hair off his face.</p><p>When he bent down to dip his bread roll into the stew, he saw something floating in the sauce of his bowl. He thought it must be an insect or a beetle. It was only when he picked it up that he saw it was a tiny pink flower. And turning it over in his hands, he saw it was not a true flower. It was cunningly made of silk and folded to resemble a flower.</p><p>It was beautiful.</p><p>On impulse, he tucked it into his pocket, and resumed eating. He had much to do before night fall. Then he would find a way to leave this place. And he would finally speak to the God.</p><p>“I am here God.” He whispered. “Your beautiful and precious slave Dee-Ann has arrived. I am yours. Do with me what you will.”</p><p>He smiled.</p><p>His destiny was waiting for him. He could feel it.</p><p>Tonight.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0027"><h2>27. On the Head of a Pin</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Castiel marched back to his chambers at double speed. He had had enough of the cumbersome gown, and his hair was a tangled mess. Heaving the long train over his right arm, he could hear his guards in their armor struggling to keep pace with him as he practically charged up the stairs toward his chambers.</p><p>“Disperse.” He said to his retinue of guards as soon as he cleared the stairs. There was nowhere for him to go once he reached the halls. There would be no need for them to follow his every step. Seeing the look of irritation on his face, his door guard opened the door for him and mover herself out of the way quickly. He nodded his thanks, dropping the train of his gown and striding passed her. He rang the summoning gong for his body slaves and set about removing his jewelry while he waited for them to arrive.</p><p>“Light see you my lord.” a young slave boy said as soon as he appeared. He was one of the new ones. He had memorized the appropriate greeting, but he forgot to bow his head. Instead he stood looking at Castiel with a mix of fear and awe. Castiel softened his expression with a smile.</p><p>“And you.” He said warmly. “I’d like a bath please. And send for the Mima. I’ll need a new costume before dinner.”</p><p>“Yes your Lordship.” The boy said turning and scampering out of the room. Castiel shook his head. He’d have to find a way to remind the poor thing that – here in the Palace – such peasant honorifics were no longer appropriate. Still, if nothing else he felt a thimble full of satisfaction at the idea that this uncouth little boy was not suffering on the streets of Et-Novakar anymore. Dragging a camel hair brush through his hair in handfuls, he looked out over the city. He could still see its beauty, for Et-Novakar was undeniably that. But remembering the day he and Tran had ventured beyond the gates, he couldn’t help but think of exotic spiders or the venomous snakes the Godspeakers raised in the Godhouse. Beautiful but also dangerous and somehow….cruel.</p><p>His Mima arrived a few moments later and three boys ran in to prepare his bath. The man took in the state of Castiel’s hair and fought to keep his expression under control. Behind him, a small team of slaves carried several chests and wrapped bundles of fabric. Fresh tributes sent from potential suitors from across the land.</p><p>“Put them on the mannequins.” He said walking into his changing rooms. “I’ll select one when I’ve finished my bath.”</p><p>With so many strange costumes from so man different Houses and regions, Gabriel had devised the brilliant plan of arranging wooden mannequins in Castiel’s closet. This way the Mima and Castiel’s Body Slaves could discern the correct way of arranging all the garments without Castiel having to endure any more time in the process of dressing than necessary.</p><p>He noticed with distaste that one of the tributes was unmistakably from House Sha-Tan. Li-Illitur’s tribute.</p><p>The Mima saw him looking. “Is something wrong?” he asked. His higher status among the slaves permitted him to be more informal than the others.</p><p>“No. I have some….paint in my eye.” Castiel said stepping onto the stool so the Slaves could undress him.</p><p>*     *     *</p><p>He was still in the bath when he heard Gabriel’s voice from outside the door, ordering the slaves around and jabbering with the Mima.</p><p>“Cassie?” Gabriel called loudly.</p><p>“I’m not dressed Gabriel.” Castiel answered back weakly. He had been enjoying the hot water immensely, and having ordered the slaves out of the room; had just begun teasing his foreskin over the engorged head of his cock. He groaned as Gabriel came striding with a dismissive flick of his wrist.</p><p>“Oh pfft! I could draw a map to every freckle on your ass.” his brother said, promptly installing himself in front of the mirror and admiring his reflection. He wasn’t sure how Gabriel had managed it, but he had changed his entire costume as well. His bright pink gown had been swapped for an icy blue confection with full skirts and a rather dazzling hat covered in what looked like spears of bleached white wheat. His hair had been piled on his head and his face was painted in sharp hues of blue and violet that made him look like some species of bird.</p><p>“How in the Light did you manage to change so quickly?” Castiel asked letting go of his now limp cock and squeezing a sponge of scalding water over his head.</p><p>Gabriel chuckled triumphantly. “You know full well I sometimes change my costume as often as three or four times a day. Having spent the entire morning in the same dreary rag my team of miscreants was practically gasping when I appeared.” He said turning his face this way and that. Castiel scoffed. It was a habit of Gabriel’s that he retained from childhood calling treasured toys rubbish and referring to dear friends as morons. Castiel had always assumed it was to keep people from knowing when something was truly meaningful to him for fear they would be taken away. Though with nine siblings he supposed it was as good a tactic as any.</p><p>Stepping out of the bath, he let himself be wrapped in towels. “Is there some particular reason you’re here?”</p><p>“I wanted to have a few words with your Mima. And I thought we could have dinner together.” Gabriel said sweeping a wand of scented oil from Castiel’s private store over his chest and neck.</p><p>“This is nice.” Gabriel said looking at the little bottle. “What is that? Peach?”</p><p>“Pear. From House Aciman in Et-Nogolor.” Castiel said toweling his hair. “Take it if you like.” He remarked with a smirk, as Gabriel was already putting the bottle in his pocket.</p><p>“Shall I order then?” Gabriel asked turning to look at Castiel in the mirror.</p><p>“You could. But why are we eating up here? Aren’t we going to the dining hall?” Castiel asked confused.</p><p>“I suppose we could…but it might be a touch drafty with just the two of us.” Gabriel said frowning.</p><p>“What do you mean? With Ana back I thought we’d all be dining together.” Castiel asked pulling on his dressing gown. Over the past weeks it had become custom for the members of the Blood to take their meals in one of the smaller dining rooms with their mother and whatever delegates or Noblewomen she was entertaining.</p><p>“Honestly Cassie. You really do need to start paying more attention.” Gabriel said rolling his eyes. “Ana along with every other one of our sisters are turning in early. They leave at the crack of newsun for a hunt. It’ll be their last chance for a while. The Godmoon is upon us. And that means every Noble House of any important standing will be arriving within the next week. Mother is riding out to meet them on the Mountain at highsun tomorrow as soon as she’s finished that business in the Godhouse.”</p><p>In keeping with tradition to mark the official changing of the season, the Queen would sacrifice a white raven and feed it to the God.</p><p>“I….” Castiel began but bit back what he was about to say. It oughtn’t have smarted that none of his family had thought it appropriate to at least let him know they were going. But it did. “I don’t think I’ll be needing the Mima anymore. If there’s to be no dinner then I might as well be comfortable. No need to put myself through trying on another new costume.”</p><p>“I would if I were you. There’s still a veritable mountain of them you have yet to sample, and all eyes will be on us once the Nobility has arrived. A wardrobe malfunction could be catastrophic.” Gabriel said falling into a whisper of horror. “Besides, it’ll be a good opportunity to try House Sha-Tan’s before they arrive….” He added almost tentatively.</p><p>“You saw that.” Castiel said.</p><p>“I did.” Gabriel said still not meeting his eyes as he toyed with a box of powder. “Difficult not to. Their sense of decoration is….a trifle severe.”</p><p>“<em>Severe</em>? I wouldn’t be surprised if Li-Illitur has sent me a row of dead sparrow heads to wear around my neck.” Castiel said wryly.</p><p>Gabriel chuckled at that, removing his hat and ringing the bell to summon the slave so they could order.</p><p>“But not tonight. I’ll wear it tomorrow I promise. No point in delaying it.” Castiel added.</p><p>As soon as the Slaves had packed up everything, Gabriel vacated his seat in front of Castiel’s mirror and motioned for him to sit down. “Gabriel I told you I’m not…..” he began, but cut off when Gabriel made a flapping motion with his hands.</p><p>“Never mind that. I have something for you.” He said. Castiel looked at him oddly. Something in Gabriel’s composure had changed very abruptly. And he didn’t like it. “I was going to give this to you earlier, but then the wind….”</p><p>He watched in the mirror as Gabriel flicked a finger and a boy slave came walking in, obviously struggling to maintain his hold on the box he was carrying. It was an ornate thing of wood inlaid with mother of pearl, and Castiel recognized their family’s crest emblazoned on the top. Gabriel waited for the slave to leave and shut the door behind him before turning back to the box. Pulling a tiny knife – the blade no bigger than the nail on his little finger – from a cleverly concealed spot on the box, Gabriel pierced the pad of his thumb with it and pressed the flesh until a fat drop of blood pooled there. And wincing, he touched his finger to the Crest laid into the wood. The entire sigil lit up with an unearthly grey green glow. And with a small puff of air almost like a sigh, the whisper of Godbreath sealing the box blew away. It was a clever design – devised many generations before – to ensure that only a member of Castiel’s Blood could open such boxes. Castiel leaned forward as Gabriel flipped back the lid of the box to reveal the most magnificent necklace he had ever seen.</p><p>“<em>Good gracious</em>…” he whispered as Gabriel put it around his neck, having to fight not to wince at the icy coldness against his skin. “I’ve only ever seen it in his portrait….” He said unable to keep from touching his fingers to the delicate necklace.</p><p>“Father’s wedding choker.” Gabriel said softly. “Crafted in Et-Gorika specially for their wedding, it is fitted with one stone for each of the Noble Houses in Mijak. Popular legend holds that the Master Goldsmith who created it was put to the knife when it was done, so she could never again create such beauty.”</p><p>It covered him from the bottom of his chin to midway down his chest and over his shoulders. A honeycomb pattern of filigreed gold, cunningly worked with enough diamonds, rubies, sapphires, emeralds, black pearls and too many stones for Castiel to easily name; until it felt as if he might collapse under its weight.</p><p>He sat gawking at himself for a few minutes, simply admiring the masterful craftsmanship.</p><p>“It is a phenomenon brother. But I cannot wear it. You are marrying before me.” Castiel said meeting his brother’s eyes in the mirror. It had become a tradition for all Grooms of the Blood to wear it on their wedding day.</p><p>“I have no need of it. The Southern wedding garb will have me covered from head to toe. But….” Gabriel said conspiratorially as he bent down to sit on the stool behind Castiel. “Like I said, we neither of us are the first Et-Novakari men to suffer an arranged marriage. And there’s more to this necklace than you know.”</p><p>Castiel watched in horror as Gabriel reached over and tugged a tiny purple amethyst right out of its setting with surprising ease. “Gabriel!” he said.</p><p>“Just…watch.” Gabriel said reaching for a goblet of water and dropping in the stone. “Lemon.” He continued, reaching for one of the lemon wedges the Mima kept on hand to loosen stubborn paint off Castiel’s face. Squeezing the juice into the goblet, Castiel watched as for a long moment nothing happened, while Gabriel continued swirling the goblet. Then before his very eyes, the stone began to give off motes of color as it began to dissolve. Before long, the water had turned the color of new wine.</p><p>“A fake?” Castiel said. “Did one of the stones get lost?”</p><p>“A cunning deception, fit for a king.” Gabriel said looking at the goblet. “There isn’t a single amethyst on this necklace.”</p><p>Castiel frowned looking down. He could casually count at least thirty. “Alright, then what are they?” he asked.</p><p>“It’s called the <em>Widowmaker</em>.” Gabriel said. “Poison of the deadliest variety. Very difficult to make I’m told. However, by all accounts it is completely painless and it acts….almost instantly. It is supposed to possess a sweet flavor. Drop one into a glass of wine and….it becomes completely undetectable.”</p><p>“Gabriel…..” Castiel whispered. “If what you say is true there’s enough poison here to….”</p><p>“To free yourself. From whatever prison Li-Illitur or any other woman can conceive of.” Gabriel cut in. “Not all cages have bars.”</p><p>Castiel looked at him in horror. “You cannot be suggesting that I destroy myself….” He said.</p><p>“I am suggesting only that you consider every option. We are men. Our choices are never easy. But there are fates worse than death Cassie.” Gabriel said.</p><p>“But…suicide?” Castiel asked.</p><p>“Better by your hand, on your terms than……” Gabriel trailed off. “Hen you are my heart, you know that. And I would rather shave my head than see you dead. But the things I’ve heard about the West?” he paused to take an icy breath.</p><p>“Tell me.” Castiel said steeling himself with a breath.</p><p>“She’s a monster Cassie.” Gabriel whispered looking on the brink of tears. ““I have paid hatfuls of gold to any Trader, Sailor or Warrior that could give me some inkling of what this Li-Illitur is truly like…..And it seems the only thing anyone can agree on is that she delights in blood and pain and agony. And if such rumors are to be believed they excite her not only in battle but….sexually as well.” Gabriel said looking disgusted. Castiel felt his eyes fall closed of their own volition. He had read of such women in various books including the diaries of Anne Bonny who had described her cunt as dripping while she listened to the sound of her enemies dying.</p><p>“When she’s not warring with other nations, she slakes her despicable lust for tears and…even blood on her husbands. She has had seven. All young and healthy. One was only fourteen. None of them have managed to give her an heir. And what she did to them before they were allowed to die? It’s unspeakable. They are a people without honor. And they certainly don’t dwell in the light.”</p><p>Castiel felt a chill pass over his skin. He felt a dry scratch of unshed tears behind his eyes, but he swallowed them down. Crying over the thing would not make it clean.</p><p>“How did you even come to know all of this?” Castiel asked motioning to the goblet, which he promptly poured out in the bathtub. Gabriel took the goblet from him, wrapping it in a sash and crushing it beneath his heel.</p><p>“You’re not the only one in this family who reads.” Gabriel said.</p><p>“Father?” Castiel asked widening his eyes.</p><p>“As if he would ever have divulged such intimacies to me.” Gabriel said with a dry chuckle. “No. A slave died while washing the choker. Apparently the fool had mixed lemon juice with the soap. The poison bled over his hand and….” Gabriel paused to make a sweeping motion over his neck with his thumbnail. “I was presented with the necklace, now missing the stone. It was only when I consulted a jeweler to have it mended that she revealed these weren’t stones at all. I did a little digging and came upon a set of letters from our Grandfather’s Mima. They explained everything. Our Grandfather fashioned himself as quite the Poison Master himself. You know he never approved of Father marrying our Mother. Evidently his disapproval of the match went a bit deeper than anyone thought.”</p><p>Castiel nodded. He had heard such rumors before, but like so many things in their Bloodline, they were never confirmed. “And how did you replace the stone?” Castiel asked.</p><p>“You have the Harrowspex to thank for that.” Gabriel said flatly.</p><p>“You cannot tell me you went back to her.” Castiel said outraged.</p><p>“Well I could hardly go to a Palace Poison Master now could I?” Gabriel fired back. “And the bitch owed me a few favors. I threatened her with her life if she deceived me.”</p><p>Castiel turned back to the mirror. “Get this off. I can’t stand to look at it right now.” He said closing his eyes. Gabriel obliged silently, stowing the necklace carefully back into its box. Outside, a bell rang.</p><p>“That’ll be dinner. Come on. Let’s have some wine and talk of other things.” Gabriel said pleasantly. Castiel followed him a moment later.</p><p>*     *     *</p><p>After a sumptuous meal, a pleasantly drunk Gabriel eventually quit his rooms; leaving Castiel to bob uselessly around his now empty rooms for a few minutes while he waited for everything to settle down. He was dressed in a heavy linen gown that fastened around his neck before cascading loosely around his body. It was very comfortable, but it was a little too thin against the cold. Wrapping himself in his shawl he swapped his slippers for riding boots and tied a sash around each of his wrists to stop his bracelets jangling.</p><p>Creeping to the door, he saw the Guards readying themselves to do their rounds. Scrambling to drape his trusted black cloak around his shoulders, he waited for them to walk all the way to the end of the corridor, before he whipped the doors open and raced to the stairs.</p><p>He may have been mightily put out with his sisters for failing to tell him they were leaving for a hunt with just days before the celebrations were due to begin. But it presented a delicious opportunity to spend some time in his mother’s private offices undisturbed. His mother would have quit the Palace to spend the night in the Godhouse. No doubt Kufu would be there performing his….duties….as well.</p><p>Castiel smiled to himself as he darted from shadow to shadow once he’d reached one of the lesser courtyards. It was a little worrying how skillful he was becoming at sneaking around.</p><p>He raced across the courtyard until he reached the lowest tip of the Great Keep. His mother had several administrative edifices spread around the Palace, but her most private documents and things meant for her eyes only would surely be kept in her Offices closest to her bedchamber. Far on the other side of the courtyard, he could hear the bustle of the “Gypsy” camp – as he and Gabriel had taken to calling it – carried on the biting breeze. He could see the glow of many fires. There was a small part of him that would’ve liked a closer look. But he could not afford to be diverted from his task. And he would need to concoct a far more convincing costume than this…</p><p>The great doors of the Keep were locked of course. But Castiel knew several slave entrances and passages that would be much harder to have boarded up. After all, Slaves still needed to be able to move around unseen to clean and maintain the Queen’s private chambers as well as the tapestries, wall hangings and one hundred hearths in the Keep. It was – to Castiel’s mind – the largest room in the entire Palace. Perhaps even in the entire city. He was grateful for the cloak as soon as he stepped out of the candlelit slave passage and into the Keep proper. It was freezing. No lamps or braziers had been lit here. All the hearths were cold. And so closed off, the gargantuan chamber smelled of dust and damp. Gathering his cloak tighter around himself, he walked slower now. His eyes were still adjusting to see only by the thin moonlight streaming in through the windows. The Godmoon would not be full for another week, so he had to rely heavily on his knowledge of the Keeps layout to prevent himself getting lost.</p><p>He passed the first antechamber, a kind of mock Godhouse where – on special occasions – the High Godspeaker could make sacrifice and the Nobles could make a show of their wealth by presenting the High Godspeaker with extravagant tributes to the God. There was a row of huge red Godposts. Each was carved with green scorpions or black godsnakes or red crows all around them. The godbowls at their bases comparatively empty now, compared to how they would be bulging with offerings and tributes come the Godmoon. And the rows of prayer candles – set into their colored glass vases – were all unlit as well. As he passed the Godposts – for the doors to the Keep beyond were set on either side of them, to force anyone who entered here to come face to face with the God – he could hear the Godbells set into the altars stirring with the presence of his own tiny Godstone around his neck.</p><p>A distant twinge of emotion echoed in his heart as he crossed the cavernous floor of the Keep, looking up at the enormous chandelier on instinct as much as anything else. It hung like a snowstorm above him, seeming to glimmer like stars in the moonlight. Finally reaching the far end of the room, he made his way around the enormous throne to the small staircase behind. As a boy he’d played here. He and Gabriel had lost hours playing Sardines and Hide and Seek. But he hadn’t been anywhere near the Royal Apartments since his Father died.</p><p>It felt like a lifetime ago.</p><p>He came to a fork in the halls. There was a slender staircase going up – which led to the Queen’s chambers – and a narrow hall going to either side. The left – he knew – led to his Father’s old chambers. For a moment he considered going to have a look. He hadn’t seen them in years. But it had been a treasured habit of his to sneak into his Father’s closet and try on his shoes, or twirl in one of his gowns. But he wasn’t here to stir up old ghosts. Turning right, he walked quickly to the double doors of the Queen’s private office. The door was sealed with another one of the bloodlocks he’d seen on the box containing the necklace Gabriel had brought him. He huffed in frustration. He didn’t have anything resembling a blade. Trying his luck, he pushed against the smooth surface of the double doors with all his might. Nothing happened, except that a whisper passed over the surface of his skin, making his godstone burn bright for a second. He stepped back. It was probably best not to try anything like that again. He may have the Queen’s blood in his veins, but he didn’t think it would be pleasant to trigger the Godbreath protecting the door.</p><p>He silently cursed the Queen for a paranoid old fool.</p><p>But then, he supposed since he WAS trying to break into her private office that the precaution was a good one. He looked around for anything sharp enough to bring blood. He didn’t much relish the thought of biting into his own flesh hard enough to break the skin. There was always the possibility he might find something in the Queen’s chambers, but he didn’t think it was a good idea to haring around in there just then. He didn’t know his way around. And anything he disturbed would surely be reported to the Queen directly by her Body Slaves.</p><p>“Light blind her.” He whispered feeling utterly defeated. He’d come all this way for nothing. He pushed his hands through his hair in frustration. There was nothing for it. He would just have to wait until tomorrow night and try again. All but dragging his feet, he turned and walked back down the stairs. He shivered as he walked back into the open space of the Keep, pulling his shawl tight around his body and wrapping the folds of the cloak tighter around himself as he walked.</p><p>He was nearly to the door of the antechamber when he heard it.</p><p>A sound like someone trying not to make a sound.</p><p>He froze in place, straining his ears as he listened. For a long moment there was nothing. Just empty silence. Silently gathering the heavy fabric off the ground so it wouldn’t drag, he crept forward. For the second time in as many minutes he dearly wished he had a blade on him. Or at least a weapon of some kind. He was keenly aware suddenly that he was man alone in a very, very large part of the Palace that was far from where any of the Guards were patrolling. Despite the cold his body was making sweat.</p><p>He waited. He listened.</p><p>Nothing.</p><p>Perhaps he had imagine it. Perhaps it was just the night playing tricks on him.</p><p>But then he heard it again. And he was sure he hadn’t imagined it this time. It was soft, but definitely there. The sound of something scraping against metal.</p><p>Someone was in the antechamber.</p><p>Moving against the walls so he was under the windows and hidden from any errant blades of moonlight, he inched his way around the corner so he could stare down the length of the antechamber. He spotted them instantly.</p><p>There was a hooded figure hunching in front of one of the Godbowls.</p><p>Whoever it was, they were less than twenty feet from where Castiel stood. She wore a cloak of some kind, that reached only to her knees; but the hood was pulled up to hide her face. From the state of her clothes, Castiel could only assume she was one of the peasants from the Gypsy camp. He watched as the figure – who seemed to be muttering to themselves – extended a hand into the Godbowl. His blood boiled. A <em>thief</em>. Stealing from the <strong>Godbowl</strong>. To Castiel’s astonishment, the thief had actually been so bold as to light one of the votive candles to better see their plunder. All fear left him in an instant.</p><p>Narrowing his eyes, Castiel felt his anger roil within him. He had to be careful how he proceeded however. It may only be one thief, but like as not she was armed. And Castiel was all alone. With a well timed scream, he might be able to summon the guards. But the likelihood that the thief would kill him and escape into the night was too great.</p><p>No. He would not let anyone who would steal from the God escape him.</p><p>He looked around. The thief had been smart enough to close the doors of the Keep behind her. He doubted she had any idea of the slave’s passage Castiel had used. Which meant she would have to try and flee through those same doors in order to get back to the camp. That was good. He could use that. Inching along the wall as quickly and as silently as he could, he walked to the lever that controlled the siege lock.</p><p>Carved from solid ironwood, the siege lock was a giant bar that fell across the doors. If the Palace were ever breached, it acted as a last line of defense for the men and children who would be hiding out in the Keep. Once it was in place, nothing short of a battering ram would break through. And even then only after days of constant ramming. In short, it was more than apt to the task of keeping one fool of a God thief in the Keep with Castiel.</p><p>Curling his fingers around the lever, he strained on his teeth as he heaved. It was heavy and stiff, but the mechanism was well oiled; and after a moment, Castiel felt it start to give way. It was – after all – designed to be moved by nothing more then the strength of a man’s back.</p><p>The effect is almost instant. The ironwood bar fell into place with a clatter of chains and a deafening bang that made the doors shudder. The thief whipped around with a gasp just in time to see Castiel throw out his arms.</p><p>“<strong>THIEF</strong>!” he bellowed.</p><p>His golden tattoos ignited all at once, even as his eyes burned white hot and his hair and cloak lifted away from his body as if affected by some unseen wind. Castiel watched with satisfaction as the thief upended the godbowl next to her and crashed right into a bank of votive candles as she scrambled to get away. Rushing with all the speed and grace of a cockroach, the thief’s legs tumbled over her head and shot off like an arrow to get away from Castiel. With the doors blocked, the only place for her to go was deeper into the Keep.</p><p>Castiel caught a glimpse of tousled blond hair as the hood fell back. In her haste however, the thief had run for the far door into the Keep. He didn’t know whether she knew he was standing right next to another, but he didn’t care. He raced into the Keep, just able to discern the shadowy shape in the distance. She was fast. Obviously a natural runner. He couldn’t afford to lose sight of her. Feeling his anger swell, he let rip.</p><p>The air of the Keep is split with an impact like soundless lightning. Raising his arms above his head, he reached for the beams of moonlight streaming in through the window; bending it midair to arc into his hands. And aiming the column of pure white light at the Chandelier high above him, the entire Keep explodes in a cascade of light. It danced in a thousand thousand fractals; illuminating every corner of the Keep and throwing long shadows behind every column. He looked around for the thief.</p><p>There!</p><p>She was cowering in one of the unlit hearths.</p><p>Bringing his arms down so they were at shoulder height, he aimed his light directly at the Hearth; blinding the thief; who threw up her hands around her head as if to shield herself.</p><p>“<strong>I see you thief!</strong>” he shouted, his voice reverberating with the strange harmonics it always took one when he used his powers this way. “Come out now, or I will burn you to a crisp!” he continued walking closer to the thief. His hair twisted and snapped behind him, and the folds of his cloak and shawl snapped out behind him.</p><p>“Leave off!” the thief yelled, in a voice that unmistakably male. Castiel frowned. A boy? He let the moonlight bounce back to its natural position, but he kept his hold on his power; his tattoos still burning with golden light.</p><p>“Please don’t kill me! I wasn’t going to steal anything!” the thief said, seemingly disoriented by the sudden lack of light.</p><p>“So…not just a thief; but a liar as well.” Castiel growled.</p><p>“I swear before the God! I was only trying to make an offering!” the thief yowled as Castiel stepped closer. They were less than ten feet apart now. “I was paying tribute to the God that was long overdue. I swear it! I would never in my life steal from the God.”</p><p>“Come out into the open! Take off that hood and turn out your pockets. And if you even think of pulling a knife on me, I swear on my Blood I will roast you where you stand and leave you for the dogs to feast on!” Castiel barked.</p><p>Obediently, the thief emerged from the hearth, keeping his arms raised, he shook his head and the hood fell back. For a moment, Castiel was taken aback. He didn’t know what he had been expecting a thief to look like. But this was not it.</p><p>Clear green eyes – that would have been large even if they hadn’t been widened in fear - framed by long, thick lashes, set beneath slender, arching brows. His chiseled nose sat between sculpted cheekbones hovering above a square, masculine jaw. He was simply put, the most beautiful man Castiel had ever seen.</p><p>For a moment, Castiel just wanted to look at him; before he remembered that this beauty had broken into the Great Keep and was more than likely trying to think of a way to kill him and run away.</p><p>“Take off your cloak. And turn around. I want to see for myself that you don’t have a hidden weapon.” Castiel said after a moment. The boy obliged, dropping the cloak and turning on the spot.</p><p>Castiel frowned. He had probably just interrupted him before he could make off with anything. What kind of an idiot would break into the Palace Great Keep just to light a single candle and make an offering to the God. No. This was some kind of a trick.</p><p>“You are in no danger from me.” The man said looking at Castiel with a mix of awe and terror.</p><p>“Lies.” Castiel said evenly, though inexplicably he felt the urge to believe him.</p><p>“Then kill me.” He said those gorgeous eyes boring into Castiel’s very soul where he stood. He was still afraid, Castiel knew that much. But he was working hard to hide it. “I am ready to meet the God. I have served it faithfully.”</p><p>“Who are you?” Castiel asked. There was something strange about him. An otherness he couldn’t quite place.</p><p>“Dee-Ann.” He said. “My name….is Dee-Ann.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0028"><h2>28. Interlude</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Going to break with continuity for a bit to just add some more flavor into the overall setting. I am working on the next proper chapter. Pinky swear!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h4>
  <span class="mw-headline">Arad Doman - Training Academy and main holdfast for the Order of Dreamweavers</span>
</h4><p> </p><p>It was a place few had visited. And even among those who had, few could truly say that they wanted to. The Island did not appear on any map. Situated hundreds of miles North West of Et-Novakar, Arad Doman was a dark, impenetrable place. Situated on an outcropping of craggy black rock amidst the perpetually crashing waves and freezing fog that never fully dissipated; of the North Sea, Arad Doman was known - to those who had ever laid eyes on it - as the Tooth. The building was not burdened by anything so frivolous as beauty, a towering hulk of stone all but totally bereft of outside windows, the Tooth was only accessible via a collapsible drawbridge controlled from within. And this only on those rare occasions when the sea dropped low enough for the narrow spit of land which connected Arad Doman to the mainland became visible. The nearest settlement was two days hard riding away. And there had never been any trade or interactions between the inhabitants of the Tooth and the villagers. And that was <em>exactly</em> how both parties liked it.</p><p> </p><p>In a drafty chamber at the very top of the dreary tower, The Reverend Mother Ravenna Duaiv Mac-Leire paced back and forth over the bare cold stone floor while she waited for the Acolyte to escort the visitor in.  Her robes were damp at the hems, and her body ached from the cold. She sneered as she worked her gnarled hands. Pain was beneficial to a Dreamweaver. It helped her focus. It was a legitimate and recognized practice for Sister who had been instructed to become pregnant, to harness the agony of childbirth to generate particularly powerful visions. She had seen seventy two namedays. Her womb had dried out and shriveled within her many years before. Such tools were beyond her now. She all but growled. Her coarse hair fell in fine curtains about her waist as she walked in a slow circle around the enormous table which fair dominated the room. On it had been painted the most comprehensive map of Mijak which existed. Every river, mountain and settlement was clearly marked on it. The much lacquered surface was also updated constantly with the names of ruling families, and cities - based on the regular correspondence from their Sisters across the known world.  The map room was freezing, as it always was this far north. And though there were four enormous hearths built into the walls, only one had been lit. The fire was also the only source of light in the room. If this meeting did not go well, she wanted as plentiful shadows at her disposal. She narrowed her eyes and pulled her mouth into a hard line, feeling her rage scorch her from within. The heavy wooden doors opened, and High Godspeaker Bobarak walked in.</p><p> </p><p>He was young to be a High Godspeaker, barely past forty. He was bones and skin and godbraids, with a cold hard face. His burning eyes were fixed upon the God. The black Scorpion pectoral strapped to his naked chest glowed with flecks of gold and crimson. The fiery passion and fierceness of his absolute devotion was written across his every feature. Nine seasons before, he had walked unaided from the Godhouse of Et-Novakar's Scorpion Pit; the God's choice as its High Godspeaker in the world. Eight of his fellow Godspeakers had died in that choosing; deluded by demons and lost to freeze in Hell. The Reverend Mother had been there of course. And even as he had walked, his skin dripping blood and venom; she had known this was a man she would come to despise and admire in equal measure. </p><p> </p><p>"You summon me like a common slave?" he said casting off a traveling cloak.</p><p> </p><p>"I did not see the need for formality. I already knew you would answer a summons, and here you stand." she said annoyed. </p><p> </p><p>"Speak plain witch. I have no time for your <em>magic</em>. And wipe that constipated look off your face. We both know you are not psychic enough to read <strong>my</strong> mind." he said moving to stand in front of the fire. Even compared to the "cold" of Et-Novakar, Arad Doman was a place steeped in perpetual winter. She sneered in satisfaction. "Here I am. Now tell me. What is so urgent that we could not have merely corresponded via letters?"</p><p> </p><p>"I would open a vein before I would ever have dared to write down any of this Bobarak." she said continuing her slow walk around the room. "You may doubt my powers Bobarak. But we are facing a cataclysm."</p><p> </p><p>"Am I hear to listen to a sermon?" Bobarak asked. "I have read the omens myself." </p><p> </p><p>"Then you should know." The Reverend Mother said. "For two thousand years we of the Order have hunted the future, honing our skills and developing our powers. We have become practiced at piercing the veil to calculate the most advantageous outcomes. And for two thousand years we have been successful. Guiding the endless cycle of Warlords and nobility to forge the greatest empire the world has ever seen."</p><p> </p><p>"Only through the greatness of the God was this done. Your Spiders weave their webs in the ears of Warlords all over Mijak, but when it comes to it; to blood and bone....it is the God who guides the blade." Bobarak said rounding on her.</p><p> </p><p>"I have no interest in debating the role of the Godspeakers in this. I brought you here to warn you, As I warned you, years ago. The night I was driven from my bed. A vision more powerful than any I had received in over three decades. I wrote to you immediately...." she said. "A completely <em><strong>new</strong></em> event. An <em>unforeseen</em> act. It was like a stone thrown into the clear waters of my mind. And ripples of destiny and fate have been sounding all over the world ever since."</p><p> </p><p>"I well remember your dire predictions. Your lofty claims that a force powerful enough to derail the world had entered into our midst. Yet still we languish. None of your visions of gloom and death have come to pass. You speak with conviction, but your are dust before the God." Bobarak said staring into the flames.</p><p> </p><p>"You know well Bobarak. All it takes to unravel an entire tapestry is to pull a single thread. And I say one such a thread was pulled that night...." she hissed.</p><p> </p><p>Bobarak sighed, sounding exhausted. "If you have finished I will take to my bed. I have ridden very far to hear more nonsense of all this great knowledge you have that the God has not chosen to share with me..."</p><p> </p><p>"It happened again." she said shivering. "Last night. Something has....<em>changed </em>again."</p><p> </p><p>"What?" he asked.</p><p> </p><p>"I dare not guess. Several of my Sister Reverend Mothers throughout Mijak felt it as well. They remarked on the timing." The Reverend Mother said.</p><p> </p><p>"Timing?" Bobarak asked.</p><p> </p><p>"It is four years to the day since the last time it happened." she said. "And more troubling than this......the time of the Nexus is almost upon us."</p><p> </p><p>"You have spoken of this Nexus before." Bobarak said turning to look at her. She nodded.</p><p> </p><p>"An intersection of events....beyond which we cannot see." she admitted. "It is less than one hundred days from us now."</p><p> </p><p>"If your powers are failing you it because your heretic ways are....." Bobarak began but she interrupted.</p><p> </p><p>"The only possible explanation for such blindness is that the Nexus has the power to permanently alter the course of the future. Of destiny itself." the Reverend Mother said quickly. "We have determined its source. It will take place in Et-Haravelle." </p><p> </p><p>"And what would you have me do?" Bobarak asked. </p><p> </p><p>"We must move quickly. Who is the High Godspeaker in Et-Haravelle? They will have much to do. You must write to them. They must read the omens and make all possible preparations. I have already dispatched one of my most trusted Agents. She will be in Et-Haravelle well before the point where our visions end." she said.</p><p> </p><p>"And until then?" he asked.</p><p> </p><p>"I will journey to Et-Haravelle as well when the time comes. But in the morning we will both of us return to Et-Novakar. All of the auguries point to there." she said dryly.</p><p> </p><p>"And what do you mean to do if you can identify this....nexus?" Bobarak asked.</p><p> </p><p>"I will destroy it." </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_</p><p> </p><p>Here are just a couple of reference images for some of the hairstyles Castiel has had to endure throughout the story. I dunno if I am doing a great job carrying across how complex some of these are.</p><p> </p><p>
  
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Now what do y'all suppose could've happened that would be causing such a ruckus?! He he!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0029"><h2>29. Zugunruhe</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As they stared at one another, Castiel began to suspect that this Dee-Ann would not speak again on his own. He allowed a little more power to saturate his tattoos. In the darkness of the Keep he could barely make out anything of Dee-Ann. There was no wood in any of the hearths, but there were hundreds of lamps suspended from the ceiling and easily twice that many torches in wrought iron sconces on the wall. Allowing more power to saturate his tattoos – making them glow brighter – Castiel raised his arms and sent two perfect bolts of blinding white light arching from his palms. A second later the nearest torch was lit – making Dee-Ann jump in a way that Castiel found satisfying – before the light hopped to the next, and the next; until finally after a few seconds a decent portion of he corner they were standing in was lit.</p><p>Castiel let go of his grasp on his power. He was getting dizzy. And he didn’t want to overexert himself in case this exchange took a violent turn. No matter how compelling he found his beauty, this Dee-Ann was still as a trapped animal. And that was usually when they were the most dangerous.</p><p>“By the <em>God</em>…..” Dee-Ann whispered looking with unabashed awe at the lights bouncing and bursting to life. “…..how is such a thing <em>possible</em>? Are you...a Godspeaker?”</p><p>“<strong>I’ll</strong> be the one asking the questions if you please…..” Castiel said shaking his hair back over his shoulder. His skin felt over hot. And there were unpleasant rivulets of sweat leaking out from under his hair. In the increased light he began to notice other things about Dee-Ann. Beneath the grubby cloak which lay on the floor, he was dressed in women’s clothing. Castiel noted that the woman – though petite from the looks of it – was still slightly larger than Dee-Ann. Nothing he wore fit him properly. The threadbare tunic he wore sagged around the neckline, and his hips were slightly too narrow for the leather trousers he wore. He’d wrapped strips of leather around his legs to hold the trousers tight to his skin, revealing a pair of powerful, shapely legs that were slightly bowlegged. To Castiel’s dismay, his tunic had ridden up as he’d run away, revealing a palm sized strip of perfectly smooth, tantalizingly golden skin visible at his hip.</p><p>Dee-Ann noticed Castiel looking, and quickly pulled at the hem of the tunic covering himself. Castiel dragged his mind away from the avenue his thoughts had been headed down a moment before and back to the task at hand.</p><p>“How did you break into the Keep? Those doors were locked.” Castiel said suspiciously. “And how did you even know there was a Godpost here to begin with. This building isn’t open to the courtiers, let alone a Peasant.”</p><p>“The God showed me.” Said Dee-Ann sharply; his furious green eyes never leaving Castiel’s. “Every newsun and highsun Godspeakers walk across this courtyard and into this building. They enter with baskets that are full and leave with them emptied. I knew there had to be a Godbowl in here somewhere.”</p><p>Castiel widened his eyes. It was true of course, but he would’ve had to have been watching the movements of the Godspeakers very closely to have noticed such a thing. “That still doesn’t explain how you got in.”</p><p>“I waited for the Godmoon and his wife to walk high in the sky. The same guards come every night. They watch the dancing and singing. They drink the ale and tiger’s milk offered to them and fuck with the boys in the caravans.” Dee-Ann explained, scrubbing a dirty but still elegantly slender hand over his tousled mop of hair.</p><p>“The God hid me in its Eye. No one saw me. When I found the door locked it was simple enough to prize it open.” He continued making a vague turning gesture with his hand. Without thinking Castiel moved to step forward and Dee-Ann instinctively backed away, though his heel caught on an uneven stone and he looked poise to fall flat on his back. He groped wildly for anything and – moving quickly – Castiel reached out his hand.</p><p>Dee-Ann’s hand closed around his wrist.</p><p>Castiel’s entire arm lit up with goose flesh. He jolted, then gasped in a breath, the intensity of it flooring him. Everything was sharp and sudden and too much all at once. Time stretched thin between them and for a moment that lasted an eternity his eyes locked with Dee-Ann’s.</p><p>A moment.</p><p>     A second. That lasted a thousand, thousand years.</p><p>          For a moment, his eyes were the smoke of a fire burning in the hearth.</p><p>                 For a millennium, his skin was the warmth of a lover’s kiss.</p><p>                       In that instant, he felt a second heartbeat synchronizing with his.</p><p>                              His flesh thrummed with longing. Centuries of loneliness.</p><p>                                     This feeling! He knew he had never felt it before! But he knew.</p><p>                                This was the thing with feathers that granted peace its serenity</p><p>                         That granted health its luster.</p><p>                    Home.</p><p>              Safe.</p><p>         Just for a moment.</p><p>Only forever.</p><p>Castiel’s widened and he could suppress a moan. If Dee-Ann hadn’t been gripping his hand like a drowning man, he would surely have dropped him. He regained his footing, but didn’t immediately let go. Castiel wanted to say something. To know if Dee-Ann had felt it too!</p><p>But Dee-Ann’s eyes told him that he had.</p><p>It was only at that moment that Castiel noticed the blade tucked into a wrapping around his forearm. Dee-Ann followed his gaze and whipped his hand free of Castiel’s.</p><p>Several things happened at once. On instinct Castiel threw his arms up to shield his head, feeding every ounce of power into his tattoos and lighting up like the burning heart of a star where he stood.  Dee-Ann – looking shocked and afraid – hurled himself back against the wall, ostensibly blinded for a moment. And behind him, Castiel became aware of many voices shouting at once along with a loud banging on the great wooden doors of the Keep.</p><p>The doors!</p><p>The Guards!</p><p>They must’ve seen the lights and come running.</p><p>For some unknown and utterly inexplicable reason, Castiel felt himself gripped with panic. It was ridiculous of course. They were his guards. If they breached the door, they would only protect him. And yet for some reason the thought that they would find Dee-Ann – and surely kill him – filled him with a sense of profound dread.</p><p>In an instant, he decided to act. He could work out the intricacies of his own stupidity later. For now he needed to get Dee-Ann back to the Gypsy camp. He turned back to Dee-Ann, only to find him blindly groping along the walls trying to get away from Castiel. He growled through his teeth. The idiot didn’t know there was another way out of the Keep, so in his haste was actually running toward the Guards.</p><p>“Wait!” Castiel said trying to – impossibly – speak loud enough for Dee-Ann to hear him but also to keep his voice down.</p><p>“I’m sorry I–“ Castiel yelled already rushing after him. He rounded the corner into the antechamber, only to nearly barrel into Dee-Ann’s back.</p><p>Dee-Ann seemed for a moment to be floating, his feet barely touching the ground and his shoulders set at an awkward angle. It was only when Castiel took a step to the side that he saw the cloth of his tunic balled in the fist of a large Guard.</p><p>“Your Majesty?!” she asked with equal parts confusion and unmitigated fury. “Are you alright? Don’t worry I’ve got him!”</p><p>“I’m fine!” Castiel said loudly. “Tessa?”</p><p>How had she gotten inside? The bar was still over the doors! She must’ve known about the slave passages as well.</p><p>“Had this miscreant harmed you?” she asked through gritted teeth, sneering at Dee-Ann whose head lolled on his shoulders as the Captain shook him violently.</p><p>“Stand down Captain!” Castiel said. “I am unhurt I assure you.”</p><p>“Stupid boy! What do you think you’re doing haring about all hours of the night without an escort?” the Captain barked. Castiel felt his blood boil.</p><p>“Am I mistaken or is this not MY Palace? Am I beholden to explain my movements about my own home to a blundering metal neck like you? I think I am not.” Castiel all but shouted.</p><p>Dee-Ann gave a kind of whimper as Tessa whipped him forward and raised her fist.</p><p>“You’ll swing for this thief!” Tessa snarled.</p><p>“He hasn’t stolen anything! Stand down.” Castiel repeated.</p><p>“His lot are meant to stay within the cordon of the caravans. He is trespassing. I done caught him endangering the life of a Prince I have. Caught him red handed!” Tessa said.</p><p>“He is only trespassing because of the lax security meted out by your guards who were supposed to be watching all of our….guests…. Instead I have had a rather troubling report of their conduct within the peasant camp this evening.” Castiel said losing his patience with the mule headed woman. “I mean to take up the matter with my sister. Do kindly put him down?”</p><p>“If he’s no criminal, then why was he runnin?” Tessa snarled bringing Dee-Ann close to her face.</p><p>“I would imagine because women with swords were chasing him.” Castiel said reaching out and putting his hand on Tessa’s elbow. She was taller than him by more than a head. “Now as I have explained….the boy may be trespassing but he hasn’t stolen anything and I am unharmed. There is no crime here. Please….stand down.”</p><p>Tessa looked as though she was about to growl something at him. Castiel felt his anger flare. He straightened up to his full height.</p><p>“Need I remind you Captain, this is the <em>second</em> time that I have found myself in the extraordinary position of having to fend off an attack while under your supposed protection. I assure you there will not be a third. Do not seek to spice the dish of your abject failure to perform your base function with insubordination as well. Now as your Prince and Sovereign I command you….” Castiel bit off. “Let. Him. <strong>Go</strong>.”</p><p>“<em>Prince?</em>” Dee-Ann whispered, craning his neck to look at Castiel.</p><p>“If he’s no thief where’d he get this?” Tessa asked all but throwing Dee-Ann down on the ground. She waved something at Castiel he could barely see, as Dee-Ann let out a howl and scrambled to retrieve it from Tessa’s grip. With a snarl she backhanded him through the face hard enough to make him grunt. Dee-Ann fell to the floor in a heap. Though he seemed poised to launch himself on her again. Castiel stepped between them, holding up his hands.</p><p>“<strong>ENOUGH!</strong>” he screamed loud enough for it to echo around the stone chamber.</p><p>“Captain, if you would be so kind as to open the barricade? You will order your guards to see this boy back to the peasant encampment. Unharmed. This is my word. If I come to hear he has been molested in any way I will rain fire down on you.” Castiel said.</p><p>He wanted to say something to Dee-Ann but Tessa was already pushing him in front of her. Whatever she had taken from him she tossed pointedly into the nearest Godbowl. Castiel could see her bristling anger as she walked. He ignored her. He was focused on Dee-Ann.</p><p>The look of raw hatred he shot Castiel over his shoulder chilled him to the bone.</p><p>*     *     *</p><p>Left alone in the antechamber, Castiel walked over to the Godbowl. There were innumerable things in its polished golden basin. Charms and coins and jewels and countless other things. He sighed through his nose. He’d barely gotten a glimpse of whatever trinket or loot had caused such an uproar. His eyes fell on an amulet. The only thing that made it remarkable from the hundreds of other amulets in the Godbowl was that it was on a broken leather thong.</p><p>Castiel reached for it.</p><p>It was a single piece of stone that had been carved in the shape of a Scorpion. Castiel wasn’t sure if he had ever seen a stone like it before. It seemed at first glance to be black, but as he held it up to the light he noticed that it contained flecks of amber and gold and crimson as well.</p><p>It was a menacing thing. Something about the meticulous way the pincers and the striking tail had been carved made it seem…..too real. As if it could come alive at any moment and strike.</p><p>He felt a pang of guilt as he held it in the palm of his hand. He didn’t care for it personally. This was the kind of ceremonial thing that would scratch and poke at the wearer. It was common practice for Peddlers to sharper amulets to make them cut the wearer and convince them that the God had sent them a message. But all reservations and biases aside, Castiel had some vague idea of what sort of a price these kinds of hand carved amulets fetched on the open market.</p><p>He was a Prince. Such things were like kernels of corn to him. But Dee-Ann certainly wasn’t. And judging from the state of his clothes he could well imagine this was the single most valuable thing Dee-Ann had ever owned. And he’d lost it because of Castiel.</p><p>Tucking the amulet into his pocket, he turned and walked back to his chambers. There was no need to try and hide the fact. There was a score of Guards waiting outside the Keep to see him safely there. And Castiel could only imagine it would be a lot more difficult for him to resume his clandestine movements from here on out.</p><p>*     *     *</p><p>“<strong>I can’t believe I slept through the whole thing!</strong>” Gabriel moaned at luncheon the next day. “Why am<em> I</em> never there when anything <em>exciting</em> happens?!” he whined practically stomping his feet.</p><p>“Gabriel honestly. It was hardly an adventure.” Castiel chastised him softly.</p><p>“Oh pesh! Tosh! Light see me! I can practically see it!” Gabriel said clutching his fists in front of his face. “The cold stone. The bare moonlight. A mysterious stranger. A lone prince with nothing but his wits and his magic to protect himself! A dashing rescue by a brave Guard! This is the stuff plays are practically made of!”</p><p>“Gabriel, Desdemonius, Alcan-tur Novakar……I forbid you from using my brush with death as fodder for one of your base little productions.” Castiel was quick to say.</p><p>“My brush with death…..” Gabriel repeated breathlessly. “It’s even a perfect title.”</p><p>They both chuckled. “You are an idiot.” Castiel said hitching his shawl up higher around his shoulders. He was dressed in a simple linen shift. He would have to don proper attire later, but for the morning he was left to his own devices. Gabriel of course was decked in full kit. He wore a gown of screaming orange that put Castiel in mind of pumpkin pies, with sleeves that dragged on the ground behind him and a plentitude of lace ruffles about the high collar that – in Castiel’s mind – rather unflatteringly showed off the width of his neck..</p><p>“I’m not the one haring about the Palace at all hours of the night. Without even so much as a ceremonial blade to protect me.” Gabriel was quick to answer.</p><p>“I was hardly expecting a duel at dawn. And the Keep was supposed to be thoroughly abandoned.” Castiel said. “And besides. Dee-Ann wasn’t interested in harming me.”</p><p>“Hmmmmmmmm yes. We’ll get to him.” Gabriel said waggling his painted eyebrows. “But I hope you’ll finally leave off with this nonsense of yours. What if it HAD been a woman? Hmmm? Some brigand with a wicked gleam in her eye and trousers full of plans? What if there had been more than one? You could have been <em>raped</em>! You could’ve been <strong>killed</strong>!”</p><p>“I held my own.” Castiel said biting into a delicious egg filled with saffron.</p><p>“I shudder to think what might’ve happened.” Gabriel said. All traces of humor had faded from his voice now.</p><p>“Nothing did.” Castiel said wistfully.</p><p>Gabriel looked at him snidely, tilting his head forward and cocking is right eyebrow. “What?” Castiel asked hesitantly as a slow smile spread over Gabriel’s face like a knife being pulled from its sheath.</p><p>“What is that look?” Gabriel asked slowly, circling his face in front of Castiel’s face.</p><p>“I have no idea what you mean.” Castiel said honestly.</p><p>Gabriel however continued to chortle at something while he stared at Castiel, actually giving his shoulders a little shake as if he’d just heard a particularly delicious bit of gossip.</p><p>“You <strong>like</strong> him!” Gabriel said finally, stretching each word to nearly three times its length.</p><p>“What?! NO I…..I mean who?” Castiel asked quickly. Gabriel barked with laughter. It came out as a sort of a cackle as Gabriel clapped his hands together and wobbled his head.</p><p>“You like him! This peasant boy. Oh this is wonderful.” Gabriel said almost to himself. “Fetch us another bottle! We shall have a toast!” he ordered a slave who arrived to clear the table.</p><p>“Gabriel I know you have only at best a passing acquaintance with reality. But you’re being completely absurd. I barely spent fifteen minutes with him. And of that time I spent of it threatening his life.” Castiel said shaking his head and rolling his eyes as Gabriel continued.</p><p>“What is it that enraptured you? Was it his face? His lips? No! His eyes! I know you! And……” Gabriel said before abruptly shooting Castiel a glare and waving him off as if his words had a bad smell. “Pffft! Cassie if you don’t know all the mischief that can be gotten up to in fifteen minutes then you’re no brother of mine.”</p><p>“Oh stop it!” Castiel said smartly. “He’s practically a savage. You should have heard him speak. Like some sort of zealot from decades ago.”</p><p>“Boo.” Gabriel huffed. His entire face fell into a pastiche of disappointed irritation. “I find religious fervor to be a bit of a dampener in the carnal side of things. What a pity…..”</p><p>“There was one thing though….” Castiel said softly.</p><p>“<strong>I KNEW IT!!!!!!</strong>” Gabriel whooped triumphantly.</p><p>“Control yourself or I won’t breathe another word!” Castiel said swatting Gabriel on the knee.</p><p>“I promise.” Gabriel said all but snapping to attention, his face a neutral mask and his posture as rigid as any soldier.</p><p>Castiel hesitated for a moment before continuing. “Well……..” he began. “Right before Tessa came charging in. I had him pinned down in the Keep. Noooo!” he broke off to hold up an accusing finger at Gabriel – who was leering again as Castiel spoke. “….well. All I could think of was that I didn’t want the guards to catch him. In fact I was going to help him escape when…..” he trailed off and threw up his hands.</p><p>He hadn’t told Gabriel about what had happened when their hands had touched. And he found he didn’t want to. There was something…..precious about it. Precious and beautiful. He didn’t want to sully it with anything so small as words. But he wanted to cherish the memory. Wrap his arms around it and hold it close to his heart.</p><p>“Well that’s not so strange. You didn’t want to see him hurt.” Gabriel shrugged around a sip of wine.</p><p>“Yes but it was more than that. I felt…..<em>compelled</em>….as if something awful was going to happen if…..” Castiel started but broke off when he couldn’t find the right words.</p><p>“Sounds like good old fashioned lust to me.” Gabriel said with a chuckle as Castiel threw a grape at him.</p><p>“If all you’re going to do is make vulgar jokes at my expense then you can kindly fuck off out of my rooms and let me dress in peace.” Castiel said tossing his napkin onto the table.</p><p>“You’re seriously going to pretend you didn’t feel even the tiniest flutter?” Gabriel asked with a superior knowing sort of an expression. “Down below?” he continued, his voice dropping a full octave. “Not even a little….whisper of a <em>thrill</em>….twitching your downstairs cousin?”</p><p>This last was said in a breathy, conspiratorial sort of a voice that made Castiel want to hit him.</p><p>“<strong>No!</strong>” Castiel practically shrieked. Gabriel just resumed his chuckling.</p><p>“I find it utterly adorable after all these years that you still think you can lie to me.” He added almost wistfully.</p><p>“I’m being serious.” Castiel said walked across the room to his mirror table. He reached into the drawer and pulled out the bundle of cloth he’d wrapped Dee-Ann’s amulet in. He handed it to Gabriel, who patiently unwrapped it and regarded the amulet. He pulled a face.</p><p>“Dreary thing isn’t it?” he said more than asked. “Why would he have such a strong attachment to such a sinister piece?”</p><p>“I’m not sure. But he certainly didn’t enjoy having it taken away.” Castiel said sounding forlorn.</p><p>“What are you going to do?” Gabriel asked.</p><p>“What do you mean <strong>do</strong>? There’s nothing<em> to</em> do.” Castiel said thrusting his hands under his hair and piling the whole mess on top of his head.</p><p>“You sometimes frighten me.” Gabriel said wrapping the amulet again and dropping it on the table. “You mean to tell me that after feeling this strange connection with him you mean to just let it fall by the wayside?”</p><p>“I don’t see what other choices are available to me Gabriel. You may have noticed that my personal guard has been doubled.” Castiel said.</p><p>“All I know is that you’ve been more….<strong>alive</strong>….today than I’ve seen you since before Tran died. And we’ve been sitting here for over an hour and you haven’t mentioned your “investigation” or “visions” or dark conspiracies even once. May the Light sear me where I stand if I won’t do <em>everything</em> in my power to help you keep this momentum going.” Gabriel said sincerely.</p><p>“And what is it you mean to do?” Castiel asked.</p><p>“Help you sneak into the Gypsy camp.” Gabriel admitted with an evil grin.</p><p>“What?” Castiel asked feeling his own face blanch.</p><p>“It’s not as if he’s vanished to parts unknown! He’s right here! You can give him back his hideous little trinket and….” Gabriel was quick to answer.</p><p>“And what exactly? What are you proposing?” Castiel asked letting his hair along with his head fall forward until his forehead was practically in Gabriel’s lap.</p><p>“I’m sure I don’t know pet.” Gabriel said in a voice so disingenuous Castiel practically wanted to scream as he was bodily dragged out the door.</p><p>*     *     *</p><p>Gabriel walked with him arm in arm to a part of the Palace he had rarely, if ever; visited. It was a huge room intended for fetes or something of that fashion. But ever since his Father had died it had not been used. The Queen famously loathed dancing and despite the vast length of the room, it was too narrow for any of the more battle oriented entertainments she enjoyed so much. Castiel practically groaned thinking of all the thrice cursed archery tourneys, chariot races and horsemanship exhibitions he would have to endure in the next few weeks.</p><p>Given the general state of deshabile the room had fallen into, Gabriel had been using it as his own private theater. A collapsible stage had been installed years before, and this was the birthplace of the ignoble Isaorah.</p><p>Behind the stage area, a small army of smaller rooms had been constructed out of free standing screens and intricate room dividers Castiel recognized from when the Palace had been refurbished a few years before. Gabriel led him to a small room at the far end of the “theater”. In the days when this had been a ballroom, it would have acted as a repository for shawls and cloaks and exterior garments. Instead Gabriel had turned it into a neat little bolt hole. Castiel’s first thought was that if Gabriel’s head exploded, this would be the result.</p><p>The walls were painted a shade of bright red that only Gabriel could stand to have all around him. There was only a small window, but a neat little log burner in the corner provided both warmth and light. It would have served to keep the coats and cloaks from growing damp in the old days. He recognized low divans, couches and threadbare velvet foot stools that had all seen better days. The velvet had worn smooth, or a piece of embroidery had started to fray; and he noticed one of the footstools was missing a leg and rested on a rather thick book. An enormous mirror that had once hung in the lesser solarium, had been fixed to the wall over a wooden desk that was a little too large for the room. Gabriel had probably pilfered it from elsewhere. There were ink pots and rolls of parchment arranged to one side on the desk. Only Gabriel would sit in front of a mirror for hours while he concocted what fresh hell to visit on the poor Isaorah.</p><p>It was a comfortable, lived in sort of a room that Castiel found very charming. Though like most things involving Gabriel it was just a little too much for his tastes.</p><p>On either side two identical bureaus had been placed. They must have been scavenged from some kind of an office with their innumerable drawers all fixed with a simple brass handle. Straining to think, Castiel was reasonably certain he had seen similar – if not identical – bureaus in the Guards War Rooms the night he had sneaked into the Barracks to follow Kufu. The drawers seemed stuffed with any number of…..things. Feathers were sticking out of one of the drawers, and another was so full of beads it was weeping its contents onto the floor.</p><p>“Honestly Gabriel don’t you ever throw anything away?” Castiel asked flinging himself into a plush chair gratefully, picking at a loose bit of fringe hanging off its armrest.</p><p>“Whatever for? And besides, you never know when I might find a use for something again.” Gabriel said sounding vaguely distracted. He was muttering to himself as he pulled open this drawer and that.</p><p>“We’ll have to do something with that hair.” He said louder, and Castiel assumed this last was directed at him. “I don’t suppose you’d consider letting me dye it…..?” he asked hopefully. The look Castiel shot him could have shriveled a vine. “Alright then. It’ll have to be a switch!” he continued not missing a beat.</p><p>“You have one?” Castiel asked a touch surprised. Their entire family was famous for having almost too much hair.</p><p>“Dozens!” Gabriel chattered as he pulled out an entire drawer filled with nothing but strips of hair in every color.</p><p>“Gabriel honestly.” Castiel said bending to pick up a fallen switch of bright violet.</p><p>“I might like to go back to one of these colors someday!” Gabriel said holding up a curly cascade of bright blue. He pinched his face and shoved it back in. “What about red?” he asked.</p><p>“I thought the goal was to make me blend in?” Castiel asked. He had to keep an eye on Gabriel. If he let him he’d turn this into a game of dress up and Castiel would end up looking like a punched fruit tart.</p><p>“In a crowd of dancers and musicians and actors and the like!” Gabriel said as if it were plainly obvious. “We can have a little fun. What about a nice tourmaline? I’m sure I have a costume that will fit you. You’re so skinny. What about a harem boy? Yes I think that will do quite nicely…..”</p><p>Gabriel was still speaking, but Castiel knew none of these questions were actually aimed at him. He let himself be put in the chair in front of the mirror, his hand wrapping around his wrist.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I know I was technically supposed to switch to Dee-Ann's POV and I will. But honestly there was more to be said from Castiel's side, and I wanted to spare you guys ANOTHER chapter of Dee-Ann just working in the Caravan.</p><p>Not that it's super important, but the title of the Chapter is a German word. It's the instinctive impulse birds feel one day to start migrating. Like a literal pull that springs up between one day and the next. I thought it was strangely applicable.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0030"><h2>30. Heavier than Heaven</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="normal">
  <span>THWACK!</span>
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  <span>The chicken was still making a stuttering cry as its head fell into the bucket. Dee-Ann grunted with the effort of having to pull the cleaver free of the chopping block, he’d slammed it down so hard it had splintered the wood and lodged itself there. Wrenching it free, he grabbed another chicken.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>THWACK!</span>
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  <span>His chest felt hollow without his amulet. He bit back a snarl. Too many things fought in his mind. He swiped a blood stained hand over his chin, smearing the smooth skin with chicken blood. Before he had snuck into the Keep to speak with the God he had taken many hours to meticulously sheer every inch of skin that he could reach. His clothes were ragged, and dirty; but he would make himself as beautiful as possible for the God. </span>
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  <span>And for what? </span>
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  <span>The stupid Guard Bitch had stolen his amulet and fed it to the God. If he could have ripped out her eyes with his bare hands he would have done it. He sighed. He knew it was wrong to begrudge the God whatever it wished. And Dee-Ann would have smiled to offer his scorpion amulet to the God if it had asked him to. </span>
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  <span>But it had not. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>It had not asked him for anything. Or said anything to him at all.</span>
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  <span>The God had been silent to him ever since he had arrived in the city. He did not know why. Many times he had tried to speak to the God, as he had when he had been in his thorny cave in Et-Banotaj, and on the road here to Et-Novakar. But it had been a long time since he had heard the God’s voice.</span>
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  <span>It had been this silence finally that had driven him to seek a Godpost. But instead of the God, he had found only that……</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>That boy. Or not such a boy. That Prince. He was a man. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>Dee-Ann closed his eyes and was there again. He had never seen such a man. No he-brat in the Village or even Et-Banotaj had ever looked like </span> <span> <em>that</em> </span> <span>. He was </span> <span> <b>beautiful</b> </span> <span>. And even that seemed like too small a word for what he had been. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Aiiiiieeeeee!!!! Dee-Ann remembered the way his tattoos had glowed, and the fire that had erupted from within him. Beautiful and terrible. Like the God itself. Dee-Ann had not been unsurprised to learn that he was a Prince. It seemed right that a person like that should be…more. Better. He had burned so bright Dee-Ann had been certain he would go blind. Secretly he remembered thinking that if that man-boy’s face was the last thing he ever saw….that it would be a worthy sight. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>His mind was gravid with the events of the night before. He pressed his hand to his chest – where his amulet had always laid - laboring to keep his breathing steady. To keep breathing at all. How long he stood there, he didn’t know. He would have stayed there forever - if not for the memories worming around inside his head like maggots in his mind. A cry strangled in his throat as he forced his thoughts away. Dee-Ann had realized that </span> <span> <em>this Prince</em> </span> <span> was the reason for the God’s silence. It had to be. The God could not see him here. How could it? When he was standing so close to one who burned like </span> <span> <em>that</em> </span> <span>!?! </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Terror mixed with tears as the shadow of memory hit him like a fist in his gut. Threatening to overwhelm him upon its return. How was he supposed to live with this? He had been so sure. Every step of the way. Since the Village. Since Maeghara. He was Dee-Ann. Precious and beautiful. He was the God’s chosen! Wasn’t he?</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>A fury bubbled and frothed and roiled in his chest. Thunder arched off his ribs and cascaded around his chest like a bare rock face. Dee-Ann </span> <span> <em>hated </em> </span> <span>that Prince. He hated him because – though he was beautiful – this man was more beautiful. He hated him because – though he was precious to the God – this man was more precious to the God than he was. He hated him for being blessed with such powers.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He….He hated him.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Hated that more than anything he wanted those things for himself.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He wanted to snuff out his light and dance once more in the God’s eye.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Or he wanted to see him again. To make this Prince to show him this power. To share it with him. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He wanted…… </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann gritted his teeth. This feeling was new to him. This….wanting. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>His palms tingled. He had not been able to banish the memory of what had happened when he had stumbled and this Prince had caught him. He….shuddered, remembering how warm his pale skin had felt under his fingers. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>It had been as if a wall inside of him – that he had never even known was there – had suddenly crumbled to dust. And from behind it like a rainbow after a storm had poured…..</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Scarlet Rage. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>At Maeghara when she called him a slave. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>When she said that she’d never loved him</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Pale blue sadness </span>
</p><p class="normal">
  
</p><p class="normal">
  <span>That his amulet was gone. That this Prince might burn brighter than him.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Aching yellow loneliness </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>That had always been there but that he’d never truly let himself feel. ………</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Putrid green resentment and guilt </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>For the Woman in the Village. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>For daring to be angry at the God…………...</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The tide had flooded over him. Searing and painful and beautiful all at once……………..</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>And in that moment, which seemed to stretch on into infinity, after the tide had subsided; a deep, quiet stillness unlike any Dee-Ann had ever known in his life had welled up inside him. A sensation of warmth had suffused him. It spread from that small place where their skin had touched; and all through his body like perfect afternoon sunlight, or a deliciously hot bath. Easing the tension from muscles he hadn’t realized were pulled tight. Dee-Ann remembered uttering a small sound. Not from pain. From the opposite of pain. A feeling of </span> <span> <em>wholeness</em> </span> <span>. He was certain the light would burn him up. That this feeling of lightness would make him float away. Instead, time stood still; and Dee-Ann found himself adrift in an ocean of light. In the whiteness, there was nothing. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>         His body was gone. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>             The pain that had made up so much of his life was gone. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>                     Everything was replaced instead by…</span> <span> <em>peace.</em> </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>                             The smell of green, green grass.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>                                   Sweetness of honey on his tongue.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>                                        Spiced gooseberries baked into a pie.  </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>                                              Perfectly calm. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>                                                  Warm and </span> <span> <em>safe</em> </span> <span>.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>                                                       Safe.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>And if he was being honest with himself, </span> <span> <em>that</em> </span> <span> more than anything else…that feeling…..was what had terrified him in a way he had not been since he was a nameless he-brat sitting under a table on a dirt floor in the Village. When the Woman was drunk on Cactus juice and beating the man, threatening that she would feed him to her dogs. Then Maeghara had come. She’d taken him away. She’d promised him a better life. She’d given him clothes. Given him food. She’d cleaned him and showed him the softness of a bed. The sweetness of Sadsa. She’d told him again and again how he was precious. How he was beautiful. And Dee-Ann had let himself feel safe with her. He’d let himself trust her. Let himself love her. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>It had all been lies. Maeghara’s pretty words and warm hand on his back had been lies. Her kind smiles and promises that he was safe with her were lies. Empty words. Puffs of air to be inhaled by the God.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He did not understand what it was that had made him feel these things when he had touched that Prince. Only that he would not allow himself to be so foolish and stupid ever again.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>More lies.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>More pain.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>More sour betrayal.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Even the swelling of his cock and the aching of his skin when the touch had ended was a lie.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>All lies meant to tempt him away from his true purpose.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>No. Far better to stay away.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>And when the Queen’s nameday was passed, his debt to the woman Bara-Bhur would be paid and he could set off.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>If the God could not see him in the shadow of that Prince then Dee-Ann would go somewhere else. He remembered the Godstone in Et-Haravelle. How it had lit up and shined with the God’s might when he had touched it. He was beginning to think it had a grave mistake not to have gone with the Godspeaker that night. Maeghara had spat in the God’s eyes by taking him. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The God had seen him then. It would see him again. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Et-Haravelle. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Aiiiiiieeeeee!!!! He had been so stupid! Why had he thought his destiny was in Et-Novakar?! A place he had never even been. Why had he been so sure? And why had the God guided him here? For he was certain that it had. It had helped him many times to get here safely. But why? He did not know. And the God did not answer. And now he had wasted so much time. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He cursed himself for a fool and reached for another chicken. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>THWACK!</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Bad day to be a chicken.” He heard a voice say behind him. He turned to see the girl Chaala standing there. She stood eyeing him as he dropped the carcass of the chicken into the bucket and wiped his hands on a rag slung over his shoulder. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Are you going to tell me what happened last night?” she asked when he didn’t say anything. He glared at her. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“It was nothing.” He grunted picking up a bucket of water and pouring it over his head, shaking his shaggy hair and spraying water everywhere. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Nothing is what made two Palace guards frog march you into my tent, three fingers into the quiet time?” the girl Chaala asked. “Is this the same nothing that has had you scorching the entire camp with your anger all day? One of the cook slaves came running to me. He said you threatened to cut off his head and serve him on a spit?”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“He was trying to steal.” Dee-Ann said. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“He was hungry.” She said. “Now what happened to you?”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“You dig into my private business.” Dee-Ann said gruffly, skewering the twitching chicken onto a fresh spit. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Dee-Ann.” The girl Chaala said, steadying his motion with a firm hand on his arm. “Tell me.” She all but ordered. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Let me wash. I will take a break. Get some wine.” He said nodding his head at her stern look. Despite his best efforts, he had begun to think of the girl Chaala like a friend. It was not fair to take out his anger and frustration on her. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>*     *     *</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“A Novaki Prince?” she asked a few minutes later when they were seated in her tent. Dee-Ann glared at her. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Louder if you want the entire camp to hear!” he said. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“You could have died! You’re lucky he didn’t kill you!” she said. “Just to look at one as a peasant is practically enough to hang you. And the guard…..” she trailed off in horror. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I didn’t know he was going to be there!” Dee-Ann was quick to say.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“And what demon possessed you to sneak into the Keep? Do you have any idea what they would have done to you if the guards had caught you without this Prince to wave them off?” she continued smoothly. Dee-Ann said nothing. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Why did he stop them from hanging you?” she asked. Dee-Ann glared at her. “I mean….”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I don’t know.” Dee-Ann admitted.  It was a question, he had not as of yet, allowed himself to ask.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“That family has a reputation for ruthlessness unlike any other. I don’t know much about any of the Princes. But if it had been one of the women? You would be dead as the day is long. Not to mention they probably would have raped you first.” The girl Chaala said, seeming to warm to her topic. Dee-Ann wanted to slap her. Did the stupid woman think he did not know any of this?</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Promise me you will not do this thing again Dee-Ann? Promise me you won’t try to sneak off again And keep well clear of that Prince. Of all of them. One act of mercy doesn’t change the fact that the Prince you met is a Novaki first and always. You already caught the eye of his Sister. Nothing good will come from cavorting with any more of them.” She said urgently. Dee-Ann did not speak immediately. He did not think he wanted to sneak off again. But he was not sure it was a promise he could keep. Still…the girl spoke sense. He knew he had come dangerously close to real trouble the night before. And he did not want to tempt the God any further. It had seen him in its merciful Eye even though it still chose to remain silent to him. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Finally he nodded. “I promise. I will not try to sneak off again. And I do not want to see the Prince again.” </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>It was true.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Mostly.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>*     *     *</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>They finished their wine in peace and Dee-Ann returned to his duties. He did not think speaking to the girl Chaala would improve his mood but somehow it had. He finished slaughtering and spitting the chickens, then made his way over to the small slaughtering pen that had been set up for the caravans at the very edge of the courtyard they were in. It was not a quiet place. There were no quiet places here. But at least here the sounds were familiar: the bleating of goats waiting to be slaughtered and the clamoring of chickens in their coops.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The sun had set, and the Godmoon was beginning to walk with his wife over the sky by the time Dee-Ann returned to the tents of the woman Bara-Bhur. He had spent the last few fingers helping the cook in her tent, and his skin was glittering with sweat. He could smell the many cooking fires and hear the usual nighttime activities beginning slowly. He stayed as far as he could from the noise. All he wanted was a bath and then to return to the tent of the girl Chaala. This time of the night, the baths – which were communal – would be drowned with people. So instead he would take the time between now and when the drinking kicked up in earnest; to practice his hotas. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He had not yet mastered the Wayward Son and it frustrated him.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He stripped off his filthy blooded clothes and dressed himself in a pair of Chaala’s freshly washed pantaloons. He did not want to ruin the clean tunic she had laid out for him, so he merely threw it over his shoulder. He would practice his hotas stripped bare to the waist, and dress himself against the cold when he had bathed. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He had walked no more than twenty steps from the lip of the tent in the direction of the flat, grassy knoll he usually practiced his hotas on when he felt it. Like an itch in his mind that settled between his shoulder blades.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Someone was watching him. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He turned, clutching his stick and holding his body ready. It would not be the first time that a woman from a stranger caravan or even one of the guards tried to approach him. Scanning the area, he found the watcher instantly. She was wearing a cloak that covered her from head to toe. He saw a slender hand come up to flip back the hood of the cloak, and he shuddered. It couldn’t be….</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Light see you Dee-Ann.” Said the Prince.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann dropped his stick.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Don't hate me! They'll actually talk now! Pinky swear</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0031"><h2>31. Bring Me the Night</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="normal"><span>The Gypsy camp was a revelation. As Castiel and Gabriel – both tucked up in their disguises – managed with slightly worrying ease to slip into the supposedly closed off area; Castiel found it difficult to imagine they were still within the Palace walls. He felt as if he had stepped into another world. The first thing he noticed was that the camp was </span> <span> <em>much</em> </span> <span> larger than he had originally thought. The camp must have housed over a thousand people. And while this assault on his senses was diverting, he began to despair of finding Dee-Ann in the midst of all…..</span> <span> <em>this</em> </span> <span>.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The ground under their feet was hard packed by the wheels of caravans, and the stomping feet of the many horses, goats, camels and people alike. What had been lawn was now packed dirt and mud. The wind whipped at his face, carrying with it the smoke of many wood fires, laced with the fragrant spices of too many different cooking pots. Over it all lay the thick smell of horse, and unwashed skin. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>A half-naked girl tried to pick Gabriel’s pocket and failed, running back to her mother. The woman cuffed her lightly, smiling and scolding her in a language Castiel did not know. Somehow he felt sure the girl was being scolded, not for the attempt – but for its failure. The woman smiled at them over an iron pot she was stirring. A rich smell of some kind of stew wafted into Castiel’s nose and his stomach gave a grumble.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Blast.” He muttered under his breath. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“What is it?” Gabriel asked looking agape as he glanced around. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I should have though to have eaten. But you took so long with my hair…..” Castiel grumbled as he shot his brother a reproachful look. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“We can dine afterwards. Now come on.” Gabriel said straightening the shawl he had draped over his own hair. To Castiel, he looked ridiculous. He was dressed in striped blue pantaloons – each leg wide enough to be a skirt – gathered at his ankles in a fashion that made his legs look like a joint of mutton. He wore a woman’s tunic in the same shade of blue, and an enormous orange shawl made of silk thin enough to see through, but weighted down with gold thread along the hemlines. This he had draped and looped over his head and about his body dramatically, leaving a length to hang over his shoulder. This he held over the lower half of his face like a desert prince. He had applied a lotion to his face that had stained his skin the color of honey; and he had – in Castiel’s opinion – enjoyed dramatically painting his eyes to resemble a cat’s a little too much. His copper colored hair was hidden under a braided black switch, and he had covered his golden tattoos in more of the paint. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel shook his head. How he had let Gabriel talk him into his own costume he still didn’t know. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel was dressed in rust colored linen. A simple sleeveless shift that reached his ankles, divided on either side of his legs to allow for freer movement – for this was undoubtedly a dancer’s costume – that was lashed to his chest and waist tightly with a harness of black beads. He couldn’t deny it was comfortable. But every time he moved, the fabric split to allow his naked legs to be seen. In fact, there was rather a lot more of his skin on display than he was used to. The shift was backless, and the only covering on his arms were wide black ribbons made of buttersoft leather that he been wrapped and knotted at his elbow. He was very grateful for the hooded cloak Gabriel had given him. It was made of the same soft linen, but at the very least he didn’t feel quite so exposed.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He had allowed Gabriel to tint his skin slightly darker, though not nearly so dark as Gabriel’s, and rather than a switch; he had submitted himself to Gabriel’s rather sadistic brand of hair care and let him braid his hair tightly away from his face and into a wealth of smaller braids down his back. His scalp prickled from the tightness of the braids and his braids – which reached midway down his buttocks – clicked and clacked as he walked with the sound of the beads fixed to the end of each one. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>They slipped in and out of the jostling crowds, sometimes following new groups or pairs as some bit of entertainment lured them; sometimes holding back and peering into the shadows between the caravans and the open mouths of the tents they passed. There were fortune tellers, scrying with crystal balls and palms and cards. There were dancers with tiny high arched feet, stamping and yelling to the rhythms of the tunes scraped out by the musicians nearby. And there were women, tempting one another into wagering on the roll of dice, or perhaps to purchase a new horse. There were small copses of women playing cards, throwing bones and small cleared spaces where they were taking bets on racing lizards. There was music as well, lively and bold played on a few instruments Castiel recognized, and several he did not. And threading through it all was the strange, exotic lilt of many different languages. For a moment, Castiel felt as if he had walked right into the diaries of Anne Bonnie and onto the deck of one of her pirate ships.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>There were smiles and shouts and groans, all well lubricated with money and liquor. Here and there, Castiel spotted Palace guards. He could see on several of the women’s faces that they knew the better of the ale and wine which seemed to be flowing like a river, and nearly all of them were on the arm of some lovely boy being led into our out of a tent. Castiel grimaced in disgust. No wonder Dee-Ann had managed to give them the slip so easily. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Still it was a pungent atmosphere, and Castiel might have enjoyed himself if he was not still focused on finding Dee-Ann. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Gabriel had no such scruples. Castiel caught him ogling a pretty young dancer. His wide skirts flared as he twirled to reveal a ripe brown thigh. The Dancing boy winked back at him, probably hoping for a generous coin; which Gabriel was only too happy to toss. The dancer blew him a kiss, and Castiel tugged on Gabriel’s sleeve before this went any further, guiding him towards a small fire where an old blind man was telling tales with great theatrical gestures. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I was looking for your peasant…” Gabriel protested. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“He is not under that dancer’s skirts I do assure you.” Castiel returned sharply. “In fact I don’t see him anywhere. Where have we not looked?”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“A great many places.” Gabriel said with a smirk. Castiel sneered. He was enjoying this too much. “The caravans?” Gabriel suggested with a gesture. They were parked away from where all the merriment was taking place, and Castiel thought they must be for sleeping.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Perhaps later. If they caught us skulking around it could be dangerous. And there are many guards afoot.” Castiel said. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Gabriel nodded somberly. “They were dealing horses that way.” He said pointing vaguely ahead. “And there’s a boxing tent over there! Perhaps he’s watching a match?” </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Well I know nothing of horse flesh so…lead the way.” Castiel said with a nod. Gabriel paid the entrance fee for both of them, and Castiel reminded himself that he ought to start carrying money with him. He seemed to be venturing into the world beyond the palace with increased frequency and it seemed a prudent thing to do.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>As soon as they stepped into the tent, Castiel fought the urge to cough. It was close in there, with three or four dozen women crowded together; smoking and cursing at the combatants. The rank smell of sweat and horse and sawdust and stale beer clung to the canvas and he could hear quite distinctly; the sound of solid fists slamming into bare flesh.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Are you sure you’re up for this?” Gabriel asked with a look of concern. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>Castiel simply nodded. </span> <span> <em>Up for this</em> </span> <span>. Pfft! Really! As if Gabriel had spent so much time among peasants. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>They moved a little deeper into the tent, closer to the “ring” which really just an open area in the middle of the tent marked with a bit of chalk on the ground. Castiel noticed hands passing coins around and one tall woman furiously scribbling down the bets on a bit of parchment. He could imagine that a few sharp eyes women would make a pretty penny on thee fights. But judging from the state of inebriation of most of the crowd; he thought most of them would not. A few of the women shifted, and Castiel realized the crowd was a bit thinner on the other side of the ring. He motioned to Gabriel and they began inching their way through the crowd.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel had difficulty seeing over the heads of the women in the crowd. He caught brief glimpses of the two muscular women in the ring; but he could not see properly. There was a meaty hit and the crowd roared with cheers and cursing. And for a moment he regretted his disguise. If he had come in skirts with proper heels, they would have made way for him. But then again if he had come in skirts, he would have attracted rather a lot of attention. Men seemed very scarce at such events if the crowd was anything to go by, and after a final glance around the tent Castiel tapped Gabriel on the shoulder and shook his head. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He walked as quickly as possible through the jostling crowd and back into the relative freshness of the night air. He frowned. He hadn’t had so much as a sniff of Dee-Ann and he was getting cold. His ludicrous costume was far too thin for the bite on the breeze and he was hungry.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“Did you see what they did? I’ve never seen such a spray of blood. Do you suppose the poor lass is alright?” Gabriel asked looking back into the tent. Though he didn’t look concerned, he looked elated. “That champion is a bit of a specimen </span> <span> <b>isn’t</b> </span> <span> she?” he continued sounding rather titillated by the entire affair. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Gabriel do pay attention….” Castiel whined. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“Well what do you want </span> <span> <b>me</b> </span> <span> to do?” Gabriel asked raising his hands. “I don’t know where your peasant is. I don’t even know what he looks like. Perhaps we ought to split off? You’ll attract a lot less attention by yourself…..”</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“And just how do you recommend I find you again?” Castiel asked scandalized. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Oh I won’t go far. I saw someone selling meat pies in there and that ale looks pretty good. And besides, the next match is about the start.” Gabriel said already looking back into the tent. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“Gabriel you are </span> <span> <em>not</em> </span> <span> going to bet on </span> <span> <b>fights</b> </span> <span>.” Castiel said overemphasizing the word. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Well why not? Everyone else is doing it. It’s just a bit of fun.” Gabriel said with an innocent shrug. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>Castiel bit back what he was about to say. He was </span> <span> <em>not</em> </span> <span> going to be cast in the part of the nagging ninny. “Alright. Alright. Enjoy yourself. Just remember that if you are caught by one of the Palace guards it’ll end in tears.” Castiel said with a sardonic grin.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“As easily said into a mirror my love.” Gabriel curtsied and hurried back into the fighting tent. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>*     *     *</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel cursed under his breath as he walked. He had no clue where he was going, but somehow he didn’t think Dee-Ann would be in the more crowded places. No person who was attracted to this kind of merriment would risk ruin and death to make an offering at a Palace God Post. He surveyed the surrounding camp and decided he would have to chance the darker, residential areas. But he didn’t want to get too sidetracked. The camp was proving a lot larger than he initial anticipated and if he wasn’t careful he would get quite lost. He decided his best course of action would be to try and find the perimeter of the camp and walk around it until he had a better idea of his bearings. They were after all still in his Palace. He just needed to orient himself.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He gathered up his cloak, and pulled his hood down low. The rust color of his outfit allowed him to blend in rather effectively, and now that he was moving; he didn’t feel the cold as profoundly as before. For his clacking braids, there was nothing to be done. He gathered the mass up in with both hands and clutched the wrist thick bundle of beads in his left hand. He darted passed many darkened tents. And some from which he could hear the stunted groaning of women. Eventually, making a slow circle away from the direction he’d started; he came to an area that seemed to be mostly animal pens. He walked by pens of goats and chicken coops stacked high. He held up his hand sin front of his face. It was hardly the most…salubrious place he had ever been.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>With a small sense of irony, he noted that he was not </span> <span> <em>all</em> </span> <span> that far from his bedroom. The Eastern Tower – which was crowned by his chambers – did not border this courtyard directly, but he could see it looming above him. It all looked so different from down here. He let go of his hair. His cloak had become a tangled mess and he had a pebble in his curved slipper. His breath was coming a little harder than he was used to. He did not normally do this much walking, and he was not accustomed to being to able to take such deep breaths. He felt a spot on his big toe where he was certain a blister was forming, and he rolled his eyes at the thought of the elaborate costumes that awaited him in the coming days.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Straightening up, he resumed his ambling. He was beginning to worry that he might not be able to find Dee-Ann at all. Then all of this would have been for nothing. And he still had to go and find Gabriel…..</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Then he saw him.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Right there not twenty feet in front of him.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel was all but dumbstruck. He didn’t seem to know Castiel was there. Castiel drank in the sight of him. Dee-Ann was not wearing a shirt. His body was a study in lean, smooth lines, and Castiel could not help but drag his gaze from his trousers – which were a little too large – to the soft arches of his hip bones just visible above the fabric. To the tantalizing dip of his bellybutton and the lines of his stomach which; had no business being as flat as it was. Up over his ribcage, each rib just visible through the tight seal of his skin. And finally over his chest and nipples. His arms were a darker shade than the rest of him, which Castiel assumed was normal for one who spent time in the sun.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Several realizations crashed over him all at once.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The first was that he had been shamelessly staring at the poor man for as many seconds.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>The second was that his body had </span> <span> <em>responded</em> </span> <span>. His cock was swiftly filling and between his legs and his loins hung hot and heavy; very interested in the delicious thoughts suddenly blooming in Castiel’s mind. He knew it was probably wrong. He knew he ought to feel guilty. But Dee-Ann was a singularly beautiful man. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The final realization that dawned on him, was that Dee-Ann was looking right at him. Glowering even. And whatever fantasies Castiel had been conjuring evaporated like wisps of fog in daylight.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He stepped further into the light, dropping his hood as he went. “Light see you Dee-Ann.” He said almost on instinct. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann stood looking at him impassively, though Castiel noticed him drop the stick he had in his hand. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>*      *      *</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>As the two of them stood there looking at one another, Castiel felt as if someone had doused him in a bucket of ice water. He had been so intent on </span> <span> <em>finding</em> </span> <span> Dee-Ann that he had never stopped to consider what he might say when he actually did!</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Thankfully Dee-Ann decided to say something in the end. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I see you Prince.” Dee-Ann said hesitantly. Castiel blinked before he nodded. There was a small part of him that lamented that his disguise had not been more effective. But he couldn’t focus on that now. A small smile threatened his lips It was probably the first time in his entire life someone had answered the blessing incorrectly. But he imagined wherever Dee-Ann was from, they had their own ways of greeting. It was also strange to be addressed thusly. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“How are you here?” Dee-Ann asked still looking somewhere between enraged and confused. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I…uh….I came to find you.” Castiel stuttered out. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Obviously.” Dee-Ann shrugged. His tone was flat, and almost disinterested. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Is there somewhere we can talk?” Castiel asked squaring his shoulders and straightening to his full height. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“We are talking now.” Said Dee-Ann looking as if what little patience he’d had for this conversation was now gone. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>Castiel sighed. “What I meant was…is there somewhere, perhaps a little closer to a fire; where we might talk properly? Aren’t you cold?” Castiel asked. This last was added because he was having difficulty looking at Dee-Ann and </span> <span> <em>not</em> </span> <span> looking down at his semi-nakedness. Dee-Ann breathed through his nose, hard; almost like a horse. And Castiel got the distinct impression he wanted to roll his eyes. Or perhaps to snarl some response. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>Either way it was becoming blatantly clear that Dee-Ann was </span> <span> <em>not</em> </span> <span> so enthused as Castiel was, at seeing him again. How not? Their last interaction had consisted entirely of Castiel firing bolts of light at him, and being woman handled by Palace guards. Still….he didn’t know why, but even knowing this – looking at the expression of barely tamed malice on Dee-Ann’s gorgeous face – he felt a pinprick of….annoyance? Sadness? Pain?</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>He noticed Dee-Ann seemed to be willfully driving his eyes away from Castiel’s face. And just then it annoyed him mightily. Dee-Ann bent to retrieve his stick, scrubbing his other hand through his mop of unkempt blond hair. Castiel fisted his hands. He’d have paid a Queen’s ransom to be able to comb it. Or at the very least try and cut it even. It was only after he’d lost himself in the rather appealing image of Dee-Ann sitting – or perhaps….</span> <span> <em>kneeling</em> </span> <span>…- in front of him, freshly bathed and pliant…..</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>…..that Castiel noticed Dee-Ann was walking away. He did not turn to look over his shoulder, or even utter a word. But Castiel felt the distinct urge that he was meant to follow. So he did. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>*     *     *</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann led him a little further into the camp. There were fewer wagons here. Mostly tents. And for every three or four tents there seemed to be a small firepit which had been dug into the dirt of the courtyard. All these were currently empty, and Castiel imagined the inhabitants of the darkened tents were all at the center of the camp, enjoying the various pleasures on offer. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Without speaking, Dee-Ann – with consummate skill – went through the motions of lighting a fire. It ought not to have been particularly impressive. But beyond stacking the odd log and using his magic, Castiel had never attempted anything of the sort. He seated himself on a low stool and watched as Dee-Ann placed twigs and some dry grass in the firepit and struck two stones together to make a spark .He half thought of offering to help, but he didn’t think Dee-Ann would react well to Castiel using his powers. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Within minutes, the fire was lit, more logs were added and Dee-Ann – rather than opting for a similar stool to the one Castiel was on – stretched out like a cat on a blanket next to the fire. He had donned his shirt, and Castiel was both grateful and not. After a not entirely unpleasant silence where the both of them were simply staring into the fire, Dee-Ann made a kind of circular motion with his hand in Castiel’s direction as if to say: “Go on.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel dropped his hood and held his hands out to the fire. “I…I wanted to….” He began then interrupted himself. “Do you mind?” he asked sharply. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>Dee-Ann frowned but </span> <span> <b>still</b> </span> <span> would not meet his eyes. “It’s very rude you know? Not looking at someone when they’re talking.”</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I was told it was illegal to look at you.” Dee-Ann said sharply. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Who told you that?” Castiel asked scrunching up his face. “Well it’s not true. And besides, I sought you out. So even if it was, there would be no trouble.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Tell that to your guards.” Dee-Ann said looking at Castiel with such intensity now he almost felt like he’d been slapped. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Perhaps I will, the next time I’m in the Keep where you were trespassing.” Castiel said before he could stop himself. His own anger was rising. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I told you why I was there!” Dee-Ann said fanning his fingers. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“And how was I to know that? I came upon a shadowy figure hunched in front of a Godbowl in the night. And I acted. I thought you were a thief.” Castiel said matching his volume.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Tcha! You mean to say you took one look at me and decided I was a thief.” Dee-Ann said seeming to simmer down. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“What is that supposed to mean?” Castiel asked. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann gave him that look again as if he was speaking to an idiot child. “I’ve seen the highborn lordlings walking around this place. Those ridiculous clothes you wear…..” he said. “Because I do not look like you, you decided I must be stealing from the God!” he continued practically spitting the last word. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I see you Prince! You are just like your sister Princess! She looked at me and saw only a thing for fucking.” Dee-Ann said. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“You’ve met my sister?” Castiel asked aghast.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“The one with fire in her hair! She told me I belonged to her and that I should sleep in her tent.” Dee-Ann all but growled. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Ana…..” Castiel said icily. Anna was known for her appetites. There was something sour and angry at the thought that she’d….. “So you….?” </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“Tcha! I did not fuck her! I told her the same thing I told you! I belong to the God! I do not steal from it! Whatever </span> <span> <em>you</em> </span> <span> may think!” Dee-Ann bristled.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“And I am trying to apologize!” Castiel said flinging his hands up into the air. “Don’t you understand that? I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“Sorry.” Dee-Ann huffed back at him. “What is that? A word. A puff of air. It weighs nothing. It </span> <span> <em>means</em> </span> <span> nothing.” He barked. “But so be it Prince. You have apologized now. You can go back to where you came from.”</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel sat not quite believing his ears. No one outside of his most intimate circle had ever spoken to him like this. And even then, this was quite possibly the rudest anyone had ever treated him in his entire life.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“Are there….women….in the world who find this….” He paused to think of the right word. “…</span> <span> <em>crudeness</em> </span> <span>….of yours, charming?” Castiel asked working hard to keep his breathing even. It was even more difficult not to release his anger, though he was certain underneath the layers of pain that his tattoos would have been glinting with his power.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“I neither know nor care what women find charming. In </span> <span> <b>any</b> </span> <span> part of the world.” Dee-Ann said dismissively. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel sighed. The heat from the fire was becoming oppressive. He rose out of his seat, fully intent to stalk off. Whatever he had wanted from this exchange, this was not it. “I didn’t have to come here you know.” He said. “I could’ve been in my tower! Right now I would’ve been enjoying a sumptuous meal and a long glass of wine. Better yet, I could’ve had my guards drag you from this camp in front of all the other peasants and had you deposited at my feet!”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I didn’t need the effort of donning this ridiculous outfit and going through all the trouble of chasing you all over creation in the cold just so I could sit here parched and starving being insulted by a peasant.” Castiel said all but pacing now he was so angry.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Then why did you?” Dee-Ann fired back. “Did I ask you to find me? Did I ask you to come here? I think I did not.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“You little…..” Castiel said through clenched teeth. But rather than continue to let himself be flustered this way, he dug his hand into his pocket and retrieved the wrapped bundle of silk that had started all of this. “I came because I wanted to return </span> <span> <em>this</em> </span> <span> to you!” </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>He tossed the bundle on the ground in front of Dee-Ann, not caring if the amulet inside became damaged. “It was wrong of Tessa to take it. She was angry at </span> <span> <em>me</em> </span> <span> for ordering her around. I am beyond her reach, but you were right there and she slaked her lust for blood on you.”</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann’s expression changed so abruptly Castiel could hardly keep track of all the emotions warring in his features. He snatched up the bundle and tore off the silk wrapping like a starving animal scrambling at a bit of meat. He held up the Scorpion amulet with both hands in front of the fire for a moment with absolute reverence, before hugging it to his chest like a long lost friend. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The smile he wore when he looked back at Castiel was almost worth being insulted and cold and hungry.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>It was as if a fire had been lit behind Dee-Ann’s eyes. And now he was looking at Castiel with such resplendent joy that he could not help but smile himself. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“You….” Dee-Ann began. “You put your hand into a Godbowl?” he asked in an awed whisper. “But that is a stoning sin…..?” he said, his expression painted with anguish now. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Offerings to the God must be made willingly.” Castiel said. “There was no sin in this.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>That glorious smile returned, and Dee-Ann tucked the amulet into his pocket carefully. “Thank you for this Prince.” He said so sincerely it warmed Castiel’s heart. “I will never forget this.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Castiel.” He said, and Dee-Ann looked momentarily puzzled. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“My name….is Castiel. If you’re going to insult me you might as well do it properly.” He continued, but there was no barb in his words. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Castiel.” Dee-Ann said almost carefully. And he thought he liked the way his name sounded when Dee-Ann said it. “I thank you.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“You are welcome.” Castiel said with another smile, feeling all tension between them – at least for this one moment – ease.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Please.” Dee-Ann said shooting up from his blanket next to the fire. “Sit. Warm yourself by the fire. I don’t have any food. But I can get you wine.” He said already adding two fresh logs onto the fire. Castiel obliged, dragging his stool a little closer. His legs were covered in goose flesh, and his hands were freezing. He draped his cloak about his legs like a makeshift blanket and waited for Dee-Ann to return; idly playing with his braids. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>A moment later, Dee-Ann returned with a large glass bottle stoppered with wax and two metal cups. He pulled off the wax seal and poured them both liberal cups of wine. Castiel smiled up at him as he accepted the cup. This abrupt shift in Dee-Ann’s behavior was as shocking as it was welcome. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Thank you.” He said as he chanced an experimental sip. The wine was stronger than any he had ever had, and it sizzled down his throat like spiced, hot honey. After the initial burn however, he found he quite liked it; giving a little shiver as heat pooled in his belly. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“You clothes are too thin.” Dee-Ann said as if he himself wasn’t sitting there in just a tunic and trousers. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“I </span> <span> <em>wanted</em> </span> <span> to dress warmer. But we were trying to blend in.” Castiel said.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“We?” Dee-Ann asked. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>Castiel nodded. “I came here with my brother. My </span> <span> <b>BROTHER</b> </span> <span>!” Castiel exclaimed. He had all but forgotten that Gabriel even existed! “I have to find him! I left him at the fighting ring!” </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“He will be fine. I doubt anyone would harm him” Dee-Ann said calmly. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“No you don’t understand! It’s not </span> <span> <em>him</em> </span> <span> I’m worried about! Gabriel is capable of the kind of mischief you can’t even imagine and I shudder to think what he’s gotten up to since I’ve been gone!”</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I can take you to him. But first finish your wine. You look half frozen.” Dee-Ann said with a small smile. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel became aware that Dee-Ann was looking at him intently. Not just his face. But all of him. It was a little disconcerting, but…given how he had shamelessly stared at Dee-Ann earlier, he didn’t many any effort to dissuade him. His expression was inscrutable, but there was at least a little warmth there. And then just as suddenly, a pall of sadness seemed to invade Dee-Ann’s eyes.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel looked away. He did not want to ruin the fragile truce they had built up by calling attention to negative emotions. Instead he sat nursing his drink and letting the heat from the fire wash over him. The silence was not unpleasant. It was comfortable even. It only ended when he eventually became aware of Dee-Ann saying something to himself. He was speaking so softly that Castiel couldn’t make it out. But he noticed he had the amulet out again.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The God. Of course the God. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann seemed as singe mindedly devoted as any Godspeaker Castiel had ever met. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann’s eyes seemed to dart around. “This place.” He said softly. “It is beautiful.” </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>His voice was still tinged with some nameless emotion Castiel couldn’t name. “You really live here?”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“Of course I do.” Castiel said. “And I sleep…</span> <span> <em>there</em> </span> <span>.” He continued pointing up at his tower. Dee-Ann followed his finger, but didn’t say anything. Instead he turned his amulet over in his hand one last time before returning it to his pocket.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“If I may ask…where did you get it?” Castiel asked. It occurred to him he knew absolutely nothing about Dee-Ann. He had never spoken to a peasant before. Most of the people he knew were either courtiers or slaves. And he found himself gripped by a powerful feeling of </span> <span> <em>wanting</em> </span> <span>. He wanted to know where he was from. What made him smile? What made him sad?</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Did your mother give it to you?” he ventured a guess.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>There was a flash of something in Dee-Ann’s face that made Castiel think perhaps he had blundered into dangerous territory again. It was unsettling. He was so changeable! One moment he was filled with such rage and fierceness, then the next he was practically kissing Castiel’s feet for returning the amulet. It was a bit like speaking to a wild animal.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel could not imagine such passion. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“My…</span> <span> <em>mother</em> </span> <span>…never gave me a </span> <span> <b>thing</b> </span> <span> worth having.” Dee-Ann said bitterly and Castiel had to grip his cup tighter to keep from reaching out and touching a hand to his shoulder. Not that he would have minded. It was something he was curious about, remembering the last time they had touched. He wanted to know if something similar would happen again. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“The only thing she has ever done in her entire life that has any meaning at all is when she sold me.” He continued a moment later, and the past was written in his eyes as he stared into the flames. And Castiel shuddered at the things he read there. He could not help but feel that even though they were sitting only a scant few feet apart that an entire world had suddenly sprung up between them. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Sold?” he said before he could stop himself. A thousand questions washed over him. If he was sold, didn’t that make him a slave? Castiel saw no red hair in the blond. But then how was he here? Had he run away? Who had he been sold to? And what had become of this master? But he did not give rise to any of them.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann nodded though as he turned to look at Castiel.</span>
</p><p class="normal">
  <span>He was relieved to see that the malice from a moment before was not there when he looked at </span>
  <span>
    <em>him</em>
  </span>
  <span>. “Ten silver pieces.” </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I’m sorry.” Castiel said softly. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Tcha!” Dee-Ann scoffed. “Why are you sorry? It was not your doing.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I can be sorry for things that are not my doing.” Castiel said swiftly. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Don’t be stupid. Did I not just tell you it was a good thing?” Dee-Ann said gruffly. “The God would never have been able to find me in that Village. I would be dead by now. The woman….my </span>
  <span>
    <em>mother</em>
  </span>
  <span>….” He spoke as if the word was foreign to him. “….she sold a nameless he-brat for what she took to be a lot of money. And because of her greed I have seen such things as would strike her blind if she tried to imagine them.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He said it with such certainty that Castiel was sorely tempted to ask what he meant. But before he could Dee-Ann spoke again.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I read. I write. I dance in the God’s Eye. And tonight, I have had a cup of wine with a Prince who returned something precious to me. The God is good. It sees me. It saw me to this city. It will show me my destiny.” Dee-Ann said, though as he finished his voice took on a kind of…..determination. And he didn’t know what to make of that.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Abruptly, Dee-Ann stood up. “Come. I will take you back to your brother.” He said.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He held out his hand to Castiel, and he took it without thinking. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>There was no jolt. No stretching of time. No powerful emotion. Just skin on skin, and warm calloused fingers that wrapped around his own. Castiel searched Dee-Ann’s eyes to see if he too had been hoping for anything else in the touch. But just as quickly lost himself in them. As he rose he could see they were not just green. There was flecks of gold in them. Dee-Ann did not step back as Castiel rose. Which put them far closer than they had been once he was on his feet. Close enough that Castiel could feel the heat radiating off him.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann led the way as they walked, and Castiel pulled his hood over his face again. The journey back to the boxing tent was much faster now that he had a guide who clearly knew his way around, and in almost no time – perhaps even a little sooner than he might have liked – Dee-Ann was pointing to the tent. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Will you find your way from here?” he asked turning back to Castiel. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I think so.” He answered.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>There was an awkward pause where neither of them spoke. It was as if both of them realized at the same time that this meant they were about to part ways. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel wanted to lie. He wanted to say no. Perhaps even to ask Dee-Ann to escort them to the edge of the camp. But he knew that was spelled disaster. If a guard should catch him and Gabriel they could easily diffuse the situation. But a peasant caught under dubious circumstances with a Prince of the Blood? Twice? They would kill him.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Will I see you again?” Castiel asked almost impulsively. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“It is your Palace. I cannot leave it until after the Queen’s nameday celebrations are finished.” Dee-Ann said with an expression as if it was obvious. Castiel chuckled. Light blind the man and his literal interpretation of everything.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I mean….” He began, mustering his courage. “….do you </span>
  <span>
    <em>want</em>
  </span>
  <span> to see me again?” </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He did not know why. But his palms were covered in a sheen of sweat suddenly as he stood there. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I think I would like that.” Dee-Ann answered a moment later. And then he was turning and walking away. Castiel watched him go until he could no longer distinguish him from all the other shadows. And as he turned back to the Boxing Tent, he thought he must’ve had too much wine on an empty stomach. His head felt curiously light as he went in search of Gabriel.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0032"><h2>32. Small secrets and big lies.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>PLOOOOOOOOOOOT! Plus a little soul searching by our favorite mal adjusted green eyed darling.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter is a little shorter than normal. Had to rush it off cause: [TRUE STORY STARRING ME] Someone tried to break into my house last night! So was dealing with the police this morning.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann grunted under the weight of two buckets of water filled to the brim. Here in the Palace they did not have access to a stream, so the Palace Guards escorted them – twice a day – to a small well almost hidden from view in a lower terrace of the grounds. Dee-Ann set the buckets down, rubbing at his neck where the rope connecting the two buckets had cut into his skin. He pulled a rag from the waistband of his pants and dipped it into the water before swiping it over his face and neck. His hair was wet and his skin shone with sweat. He had made three trips for fresh water already. A kitchen slave boy came running. He would take this water and fill the clay pots and empty wine bottles in the kitchen tent.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>Dee-Ann lifted a tin cup of water to his lips, groaning with pleasure as the water sang down his throat. The sun sliced through the canopy of clouds in brilliant blades, and he found himself marveling again at the beauty of the Palace. It was not like any place he had ever seen. He had thought Maeghara’s villa was beautiful the first time he had seen it. But it was like the mud brick hovel in the Savage East compared to a place like </span> <span> <em>this</em> </span> <span>.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>His mind felt too small to imagine what it must be like to have lived en entire life here.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Aaaiiiiieeeee!!!!!! He chastised himself in frustration, dropping the cup back into the bucket and walking off before his stupid eyes could look up at the Prince’s tower.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel’s tower. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>A day and a night had passed since </span> <span> <em>Castiel</em> </span> <span> had snuck into the camp to find him. And Dee-Ann could not seem to stop his thoughts from drifting back to him. Despite the distraction of his work and his hotas, his mind seemed determined to find some way back to the strange Prince. He wrapped his hand around the familiar and much missed weight of his Scorpion amulet in his pocket. So wonderful and unthinkable to have it back. He did not think he had learned enough words in his life to say how grateful he felt. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He still did not know exactly why the Prince had gone to such lengths to return this to him. Nor did he know why he had allowed his stupid mouth to spill so many of his secrets. No one in the Caravan knew his true origins. He had been very careful not to change the details of his lie. And with the added illusion of pretending to fuck with the girl Chaala, there had been almost no questions about his story.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>But he had told Castiel the </span> <span> <em>truth</em> </span> <span> about the Village and the Woman for no reason. Without even thinking. As naturally as breathing. As if he had known this Castiel his whole life.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>It frustrated him. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>For every five minutes he had spent talking to this Castiel, he had spoken more words than he had in the last five weeks!</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>But </span> <span> <em>why?!</em> </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He had resumed his nightly vigil. Offering up what he could. A bit of food. A sip of wine. A drop of blood. All offered to the God in gratitude for everything it had given him. But now when he held his amulet, there was another thought. It scratched at the back of his mind like a dirty fingernail picking at a scab. His scorpion amulet had always been to him like the God made flesh. A gift sent to him directly from the god through that stupid shriveled amulet maker in the Bazaar. But now the Prince was somehow tangled in alongside the God whenever he touched it. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He waited for the God to strike him down where he stood for thinking such a thing. But it did not. He sighed. He was still too close. The God still could not see him so close to Castiel who burned so bright. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>A flame of bitter anger sprang to life in his chest. He needed to be rid of this place and this...this Castiel as soon as possible. He did not care what he may have given him. Dee-Ann would not allow him to eclipse him from the God.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He didn’t care.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He didn’t care that the honeyed sadsa Dee-Ann made himself the night before was the same color as Castiel’s skin. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann had not been able to keep from looking at it. It had been warmer in Et-Banotaj than it was here. And people were not so mindful of flesh. It was not so strange for he-brats to be seen bare-chested and in short pantaloons that left their calves and ankles bare. But from what he had seen, these Northerners were not like that. They seemed to keep their he-brats more covered. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel had not been covered. Dee-Ann had had a nice glimpse of his legs as he’d moved. His body was lean and beautiful, but his skin had a softness Dee-Ann had never seen before. It was like cream. This was a man who had never worked a day in his life. But he did not care about that. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>It was skin. He had seen skin.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He did not care the next morning as he fed and watered the camels and the goats and the horses, that the brilliant blue sun – where it peeked through the clouds – was the exact color of his eyes. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Tcha! Eyes that looked right through him as if he was not even there. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>It did not matter. Dee-Ann had seen blue before. He had seen the back of Desert Scarab beetles. He had seen the sapphire pendant stupid Derubeis had kissed before every meal. And he thought almost wistfully of the indigo robe Meaghara had given him. What did it matter that his eyes were blue. Dee-Ann had seen blue.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>But none of those were </span> <span> <em>this</em> </span> <span> blue….</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>As he practiced his hotas that night – on the very patch of grass where he had found him the other night – he did not care that the leather straps he’d wrapped around his hands was the same rich brown as his hair. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>His </span> <span> <em>hair</em> </span> <span>! It was so long! Shining and beautiful. Enough to make Dee-Ann miss his own sacrificed godbraids. It looked soft too. Dee-Ann remembered the way it had fluttered and flown like water about him that night in the Keep. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>What was hair? Dee-Ann had hair of his own. He had sacrificed his godbraids to the God to pay for his freedom. It would grow back. It was of no importance. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Though despite telling himself these things again and again, he could not stop the thoughts. He prayed to the God but received no answer. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Are you there God? It is me. Dee-Ann. I am your slave. Precious and beautiful. You saw me in Et-Banotaj. I have devoted my life to you.” He said thumping his fist against his heart. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>But the God stayed silent. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The worst came that night once Dee-Ann laid down to sleep. The girl Chaala was not there. She was sporting with the others. From the Cook’s tent the smells of the cakes and pies she was making for the Queen’s nameday celebration wafted into his tent. The Palace had provided all the caravans with grain and fruits to prepare special treats in honor of the Queen.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>For Dee-Ann it was torment. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Unbidden, a particular smell conjured the memory of when Castiel had stepped close to him. Close enough that Dee-Ann had felt the firmness of Castiel’s chest against his arm. Close enough that he caught a whiff of his smell. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>That </span> <span> <em>scent</em> </span> <span>.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann groaned, whipping his pillow out from beneath him and smothering it over his face. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Gooseberries mixed with spices.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>He knew what they were. There had been a tree of them growing in Stupid Derubeis’ garden at the Villa in Et-Banotaj. Dee-Ann remembered the slave Ashar scolding him for eating </span> <span> <em>so</em> </span> <span> many of them in the summer when they ripened. He loved them. He’d eaten fistfuls directly from the tree and even more once the kitchen slaves had cooked them with honey and spices into jams which he poured over warm corn cakes and goat cheese…</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>The smell clinging to that Castiel when they were so close had been the same. Warm, ripe gooseberries mixed with the smell of his skin. A low groan escaped him. His creamy, soft skin stretched tight over the firm muscles of his neck. Dee-Ann felt his toes twist and curl in the blankets thinking of Castiel’s elegantly long neck. How he wished he could nuzzle his face at the join between his jaw and neck. He wanted to fist his hand that silky hair, wrench his head back and drag his nose over the sharp angles of his jaw line, behind his ear and up into that hair and just </span> <span> <em>breathe</em> </span> <span> him in……</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He sat up, looking down at his cock in horror. It was stone hard and practically aching. More disturbing he realized he had a hand around it. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Still gasping, he let go of his cock as if it burned his flesh.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Throwing back the blankets he hastily poured himself a cup of wine. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He had played with his cock before. Of course he had. But it had served a purpose. He always slept better once he had spilled his seed in silver trails across the dirt. But all his thoughts while he worked himself had been of women. Always women. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Never about…..</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He didn’t…..he wasn’t…….</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“God.” He said softly. “What was that…..?” </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He sank back down on the blankets, feeling clammy with sweat despite the cold air which was – thankfully – deflating his cock. He let his head fall forward. Aaaaiiiiiieeeeee!!!! How he wished the next two days would fly by. Let the Queen’s nameday pass and let him leave this place. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He would find his way back into the eye of the God and never think of any of this again. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Never.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>*     *     *</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Not hungry?” the girl Chaala asked him the next morning at breakfast. He grunted a noncommittal response. She widened her eyes at him.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“What?” he asked. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“You’ve been pushing the same piece of meat around your plate for the last twenty minutes. If you’re not hungry give it to the dogs so they can stop circling.” She said. He turned over his plate without another thought, putting it on the ground so the spiny dog could lick it clean once it had eaten the scraps. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“What’s gotten into you lately?” she asked. “You’ve always been a sulky sort. But this is impressive even for you.” </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I grow weary of this place. I want to move on.” He bit off in a low voice. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“We’re going to Et-Takona after this. It’ll be at least a month there. The warlord is taking a new husband. Good food in Et-Takona. And it’s good money. Then we’ll wait out the worst of the winter in Et-Nogolor while we rehearse a new show. And from there…who knows?” she said as if she were a merchant in a stall in a Bazaar trying to sell him sugar dates. “You could come with us. There’s always work when we’re putting together a show. Warm plate and a soft bed? Chance to see the world?”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“It’s a good offer. But I need to find what purpose the God has for me.” He said.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Think about it before you give me your final answer.” she said. “Please?” she added softly. Dee-Ann knew she was probably just trying to protect the illusion of their shared lie. But he did not care. It was not a bad feeling to think that he was wanted somewhere. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>But no. If he was to fulfill the God’s purpose for him, he could not allow himself to become distracted again. He had been stupid when he thought to find his destiny in Et-Novakar. Instead all he had found were more questions and distractions than he had room in his entire body for. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Well. I should get started. The day isn’t getting any shorter.” The girl Chaala said, her flame red godbraids flashing in the morning sun. Dee-Ann nodded rising as well. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“What will you do?” she asked. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I have to go to the smithy. One of the horses has a shoe that needs mending.” Dee-Ann said already turning. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He walked through the tents. The atmosphere in the camp had changed the nearer they drew to the Queen’s nameday, which was tomorrow. Everywhere he could see musician’s stringing and tuning instruments. Carpenters hammered away at parts of set pieces and dancers twisted their bodies into all manner of positions to limber their muscles before they rehearsed. No one paid Dee-Ann much mind as he weaved through them.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>That is, until he noticed the Princess walking toward him. The flame haired one who had told him he belonged to her. Dee-Ann frowned. She was walking through the camp with two of her Knife Dancers on either side of her. He did not much feel like talking to her. She had come by their camp several times and tried to speak with him alone. Thus far he had avoided her.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He was avoiding her now. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Instead of walking further in her direction he turned sharply and walked deeper into the camp, into sections he had ventured into before as his duties did not normally carry him this far into stranger’s caravans. Per the woman Bara-Bhur’s warnings, he did not stray too far from the familiar wagons and caravans he had come to Et-Novakar in, if he could avoid it. He had heard stories of he-brats being grabbed by lustful women and fucked against their will. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>It was therefore something of a surprise when he saw the woman Bara-Bhur talking to a woman ahead of him. He didn’t know why, but rather than continue on and greeting her; he ducked behind a large basket and instead peered around it to observe them unseen. He didn’t know why, but he had the distinct impression that the woman Bara-Bhur would not like to see him here. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The woman she was talking to could not have been more different to the woman Bara-Bhur. While Bara-Bhur was short, squat and fat, this other woman was tall and lean. Her hair was cropped short and oiled back over her scalp, which contrasted sharply against the rust colored godbraids spilling down Bara-Bhur’s back. Their clothes too were noticeably different. The woman Bara-Bhur’s leathers were well worn and dusky from long months on the road, while the woman she was speaking to wore a night black cloak which spilled all the way to the ground and seemed to drink the light where she stood. Her face was neither ugly nor handsome. But her features were sharp, and Dee-Ann thought she looked intelligent and fiercesome in the same way that Maeghara had been the day she’d come to the Village. Dee-Ann could see a jewel glinting from a ring as this strange woman motioned with her hand to indicate a wagon they were standing in front of. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Looking at the wagon, Dee-Ann was surprised to see the woman Bara-Bhur’s name branded into the side. It was common practice – he had learned – for woman to brand their merchandise with their names to prevent stealing. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>This was strange.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>What was one of Bara-Bhur’s wagons doing so far from their campsite? </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He watched as the stranger woman reached into her cloak and pulled out a leather purse that – even from here – Dee-Ann could see was bulging with coin.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>‘That must be it!’ he thought with relief. The woman was buying something from Bara-Bhur. Something they had transported in this wagon. He did not know what it was. But that was woman’s business. He did not step out from behind his basket hiding place until the woman Bara-Bhur had walked away and the other woman had left as well. Curious, he walked over to the wagon and undid the lacing of the leather thongs holding the canvas covering in place. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He just wanted to peek inside.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>It was probably ale. Or…………………………………………………</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>His blood ran cold.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>*     *     *</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>At first glance, he saw only straw. This was not strange. Straw made for good packing. And once the caravan arrived it doubled as feed for the animals and even to stuff a bedroll. But this straw had been pushed back to reveal the corner of a strong wooden box. Dee-Ann could only assume the woman who had paid the woman Bara’Bhur had done this to inspect her purchase. He pulled back the lip of the box.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>Inside were rows and rows and rows of blades. Tied together at the handle in bunches like dead chickens or carrots pulled from the ground. There must’ve been at </span> <span> <em>least</em> </span> <span> a few hundred. Not knives exactly. They were long, curved blades fitted to a long handle that ended in a loop. Dee-Ann’s memory stirred. Working quickly, he disentangled one from the nearest bundle, before carefully retying the lacing on the canvas. He looked around, He did not think it was a smart idea for him to walk through the camp in broad daylight with a blade. At a nearby campsite he saw a flat basket filled with uncooked rice. He guessed with his eyes and determined it would do. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He thrust the blade into the basket and used both cupped hands to bury it in rice. And putting the top of the basket over it, he found the hell of the handle still stuck out over the lip of the basket, but it would do for now. Holding the basket in front of him he made his way as quickly as he could back to the tent he shared with the girl Chaala. She would know what to make of this. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He found her in the tent pouring over some of her maps and papers and ledgers. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He set the basket down, before quickly undoing the flaps of their tent and letting them fall closed. She looked up from her desk in surprise. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“That was fast. Did you…..?” she began but did not finish as Dee-Ann interrupted her. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“What is this?” he asked pulling the blade free and holding it awkwardly in his right hand. It was heavier than he had initially expected. And holding it in one hand was difficult. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>She gave him a puzzled look. “Where did you get that?” she asked. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“What is this?” he repeated. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I’m….it appears to be a knife?” she asked with a puzzled expression, dipping a quill into a pot of ink. “What is going on? Why do you have that?”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“I found it.” he said. “In one of </span> <span> <em>our</em> </span> <span> wagons.”</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Oh.” She said as if he had reminded her of something. “Well then it’s probably just a prop for one of the shows.” She said with a shrug. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“This is not a prop, it is a scimitar.” Dee-Ann said. “A warblade.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Alright….” She said still looking mildly confused. “Then it’s probably my mother’s. From her days as a soldier.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“No I don’t think so.” Dee-Ann said quickly. “I saw hundreds of these, in the wagon I saw your mother selling to someone.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“What?” the girl Chaala asked. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“It’s true. I was passing through the camp and I….” Dee-Ann said.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Passing through the camp? I thought you were only going to the smithy?” she asked. Aiiieeeee!!!! Stupid woman! Was she not understanding him?</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Yes I was diverted. The point is….” He said. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation.” She said setting down the quill and getting up out of her seat. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“For what?! I’m telling you I saw your mother sell a shipment of war weapons to some woman here in the camp. A shipment </span> <span> <b>we</b> </span> <span> brought into the city. Into the </span> <span> <em>Palace</em> </span> <span> no less. Whatever that woman does with them will be on our necks. Necks they will put a rope around if we are found out!” he said loudly. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Calm yourself.” Chaala said. “Let’s just….find my mother. We’ll clear everything up.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“No!” Dee-Ann said. “We have to find the Princess. Anna. I saw her walking in the camp.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“You want to tell the Princess?” Chaala asked. “You know what that will mean for my mother! And possibly us too!”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Then so be it! I will not be party to whatever that woman is going to do! And I have no loyalty to a woman who knowingly brought those weapons into this city.” Dee-Ann said emphatically. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>A look of anguish washed over the girl Chaala’s face. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Oh Dee-Ann.” She said softly, leaning her weight forward until both of her hands were on her desk. He looked down. He could imagine how she must feel. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I wish you hadn’t said that.” She said softly, looking up at him with eyes so dead they might have been carved from stone. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He didn’t see what it was she swung at him. Only felt the splitting pain on the side of his head and the rough texture of the carpet against his cheek.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Then, there was only blackness.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0033"><h2>33. The Witch</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi guys! So just a few things I wanted to highlight before you guys get started:</p><p>!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! - TRIGGER WARNINGS AND DISCLAIMERS - !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!</p><p>This chapter contains descriptions of the following:</p><p>- BLOOD - Quite a lot of it. I tried to not go too deep, but if anyone is offended, please accept my apologies.</p><p>- VIOLENCE AGAINST ANIMALS - I swear I am not a violent person and I love all animals, but this was unfortunately necessary for the story. I will put the following symbols:</p><p>(/*-*)/ ............. \(*-*\)</p><p>BEFORE and AFTER the aforementioned passages. So if anyone does not want to read them, feel free to skip.</p><p>- MURDER - There is a brief description of someone being killed. I'm sorry if this offends anyone. They didn't suffer!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>It is a bitter and inescapable truth of life, that it is impossible to be betrayed by someone in whom we have not first placed our trust. Even moreso that no single act so firmly and completely cements an event in one’s mind; as the desire to forget it.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>- Excerpt from the private letters of King Castiel to Dee-Ann Godspeaker</span>
</p><p class="normal">
  <span>     during the Et-Maranhor years.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Collated by Princess Kla’ara of Et-Novakar</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He woke in darkness. No that was wrong. Just a dark room. His entire body was still wrapped up in a blanket of pain and sleep and didn’t want to shake it off just yet. He tried to raise his head but let it drop again instantly. It was too heavy. And he felt as if his skull would split open from the pain. For the moment all he could do was try to keep breathing. And even that effort seemed to exhaust him. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The first moments passed in confusion. How had he got here? What had happened?</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He rolled his neck until his heavy head – still aching terribly – rested on something. Something hard behind him. His mouth was mucky and his tongue felt over large in his mouth. His throat was very dry and it felt as if someone had stomped ground glass into his eyes. Dried blood crusted the skin on the left side of his face, and he could sense a wound on his left temple.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>Then he remembered. The wagon. The blade. The bitch Chaala. She had attacked him. </span> <span> <em>She</em> </span> <span> was the one who had brought him here. </span> <span> <em>She</em> </span> <span> was the one.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Another liar.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Another betrayal.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>Another </span> <span> <b>woman</b> </span> <span>.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>His anger blossomed into a bright red flame in his chest and he suddenly didn’t feel so tired anymore. The flame warmed him and nourished him. It flooded his limbs and gave him the strength to move. Gnashing his teeth to the point of breaking he brought up his head and forced his eyes to open. Forced his mind to work. He knew he could scream, but somehow he knew better. The bitch Chaala would not have put him somewhere a simple scream would be enough to save him. But she had not killed him either. Which could mean any number of things. Though he did not suspect that any of those things were good. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>It therefore became plain that what he needed to do first of all, was to escape his current situation.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>As he sat – for he realized he was sitting with his legs awkwardly beneath him – more details flooded in slowly. He could not feel his hands. But he knew they must still be there. If someone had chopped off his hands he would never have woken. To open such a mouth in someone’s flesh would let out all the blood in his body and the God would have inhaled his spark. His arms were tied behind his back, very tightly. Tight enough that his hands had gone numb. After several tries and failures, and with great effort; he managed to ball his limp hands into fists. Coaxing the blood back into them. His next moments were agony as a thousand pin pricks of pain stung his palms and fingers like icy spider legs crawling on his skin. He welcomed the pain. Pain made him strong. And he would need every ounce of his strength now.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He looked around.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He was tied to a tent post. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He had never seen such a tent. It was not small, nor was it large. It seemed to be made of some very thick fabric, or perhaps leather. For no sunlight penetrated it. He knew the sun was still shining because here and there, he could see tiny spears leaking in through the lacing holes where the tent was held together. It was not much light. But it was enough for him to discern more details as his eyes strained to adjust and discern more of his surroundings.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>The tent was full of </span> <span> <em>strange</em> </span> <span> things. He was tied to a post off to the side of what seemed to be a circle of mirrors. They were tall and rectangular in shape. He counted nine in total, and in between each one stood a large torch, though none were lit at present. In the center there was a large shiny metal bowl on a low table. There was a large burner with unlit incense positioned next to the bowl. It was only once he saw the incense that he noticed the smell.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The stink of death.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He realized he must have grown used to it while he slept, but he could smell it now. The dank metallic reek of blood and the sick sweet reek of flesh that was spoiling. He had smelled it all his life in the Village. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He looked up and shuddered. From the canopy of the tent hung bunches – some of three, others of as many as five – of dead birds tied at the feet; their dead wings hanging above them as if in flight. The closest one was hanging no more than a child’s arm span above his head.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>It was difficult in the low light, but he could see crows and ravens. There were even chickens and sparrows. They all still had their heads and feathers, but their carcasses had been hollowed of all their organs. Horribly though, the slit in their chests had been crudely sewn shut with thick white twine.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Along with their eyes.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Their eyes had all been sewn shut. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>If he had had anything in his stomach he probably would have vomited at the sight. This was an evil place. Evil and unholy. He could feel it in his bones. He had to escape from here. God see him. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>His eyes widened in panic and he tried to look down at his own chest, working his shoulders to feel for his amulet. It had been on a thong around his neck. But perhaps the bitch Chaala had stolen it from him after she had attacked him. He breathed a sigh of relief as he felt its weight shift against his skin. He thanked and praised the God for seeing him in its merciful eye that it had not been taken from him again.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I am here God.” He said so softly it was practically just a breath. “Your beautiful slave Dee-Ann needs you now. Guide my hand. Give me cunning enough to escape this and I will make a sacrifice worthy of your greatness.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>For a moment, his chest was gripped by panic. His heart slammed against his ribs and his breath came hard. Only a moment. Then a calm came over him. And he could’ve swore he felt his amulet </span> <span> <em>twitch</em> </span> <span>. He found the strength to smile. It was the God. It had seen him! It was sending him a message! </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Invigorated, he awkwardly bent his fingers to feel what the bitch Chaala had used to tie him to the post. It seemed to be a very rough, very thick rope of some kind. He was grateful. Rope could be dealt with. Chains were forever. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He stilled his mind. This was going to hurt a lot. He gritted his teeth. More strength. Strength to escape. Strength to find a way out of this. Strength to kill that bitch Chaala. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The motion starts small. He tested his bindings to see if there was any give at all. There was very little. And he tried to rotate his wrists, he could feel that the rough hewn rope was already scraping his skin raw. It would become more raw. He would bleed before this was done. Biting down hard, he began rotating his wrists in small circles, fighting not to mewl like a goat as he felt his skin ground off with every turn. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>He was Dee-Ann. </span> <span> <em>Twist</em> </span> <span>. Precious and beautiful. </span> <span> <em>Twist</em> </span> <span>. He had named himself. </span> <span> <em>Twist</em> </span> <span>. He knew reading and writing. </span> <span> <em>Twist</em> </span> <span>. He danced for the God. </span> <span> <em>Twist</em> </span> <span>. He walked in its Eye. </span> <span> <em>Twist</em> </span> <span>. He had escaped the Savage East. </span> <span> <em>Twist</em> </span> <span>. He had escaped Et-Banotaj and Maeghara and stupid Derubeis. </span> <span> <em>Twist</em> </span> <span>. He had made his way to the city of cities. </span> <span> <em>Twist</em> </span> <span>. He drank wine with Princes. </span> <span> <em>Twist</em> </span> <span>.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>He was </span><span><b>not</b></span> <span><em>Twist</em></span> <span><b>going </b></span><span><em>Twist</em></span> <span><b>to</b></span> <span><em>Twist</em></span> <span><b>die</b></span> <span><em>Twist</em></span> <span><b>here!</b></span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Warm blood ran freely down his palms and the back of his hands now. It coated every finger and pooled under his nails. And in bleeding he found the added slickness made the ropes move easier. He tried to wiggle one of his hands free but it was still too stiff. But his arms were moving more freely now. And through the pain, he knew he would soon be free.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>It was then that he heard the approaching voices of several women. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>God. No! Not yet! Not when he was so close!</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>But there was nothing for it. They were approaching too fast. With nothing else to do he stopped his twisting and let his head fall forward limply, closing his eyes and letting his jaw go slack in a feint of sleep.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He listened anxiously as the tent flap was thrown back and several pairs of feet walked in. Fresh raspings of fear wormed down his spine as he heard the tent flap being secured closed. Whoever it was that had just walked in, he was no trapped in here with them.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>Or were they trapped in here with </span> <span> <em>him</em> </span> <span>?</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He heard a clacking sound. Strange and furious. Like snake scales or godbraid beads. But different. Then he felt his flesh erupt in bumps like the skin of a plucked Goose. Someone had snapped their fingers. And with a hiss like water poured into hot oil; he heard the torches set between the mirrors spring to life. His closed eyelids were flooded with red from the increased light in the tent. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“The boy is awake.” An unctuous, oily voice said from somewhere in the tent. “We can feel him listening.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He heard feet take two steps before his entire world exploded in pain as a backhanded slap connected with terrible force to his bloody cheek. He gasped and gagged in pain as his head lolled on his shoulders.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“There he is!” the woman Bara-Bhur said once his vision came back into focus. She was squatting in front of him, a smile twisting her hideous face like a split sore. “My li’il tail.” She said almost amicably. As if she was happy to see him after a long absence. He could not help but remember all the times they had sat around the firelight, trading stories and laughing as they drank ale.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>All lies.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>All women were liars. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann spat blood and spit out of his mouth, glaring at the woman with such hatred he was certain he would burst into flame. The woman looked back at him and nodded solemnly. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I know m’boy.” She said sadly, her face twisting into a mask of sympathy. “Ah can only imagine how unsatisfying this here must seem to ya.” </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>Dee-Ann could not suppress a growl. Unsatisfying? What a stupid, </span> <span> <em>stupid</em> </span> <span> thing to say! He’d never liked the woman but now he was certain he’d never hated anyone more! Not even Maeghara or stupid Derubeis!</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“But t’be fair…..Was you what done stuck y’nose where t’didn’t belong now aintcha? If you’d kept y’self to y’self you’d not be finding your fine self sat here now innit?” the ugly bitch continued. “This what you were spyin’s been in motion since looooooong before you walked y’self into my tent and done killed my chicken. Weren’t me what invited you to fall in with us. You’ve naught but your own self to blame.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Tcha!” Dee-Ann spat again.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Step aside Bara-Bhur.” Another new voice said. “Let me take a look at him.” </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Over the woman Bara-Bhur’s shoulder, Dee-Ann saw the woman from before – the one who had given a bag of coin for the wagon of weapons – step into his line of sight. Her features were not handsome. Her nose was over large and pointed like the beak of a hawk. She stepped closer. He had known she was tall when he’d seen her by the wagon. But so close now she was all but towering over him. Her face looked as if she was lost in thought. Or as if she was reading a letter difficult to decipher on a clay tablet. Dee-Ann worked to school his face. He did not want to betray any emotion. Now that he had stopped his twisting, his wrists were fire at the end of his arms, and the warm blood that he wanted to use to free his hands was drying into scabs on his flesh. He would have to start practically from the beginning if he wanted to free himself. And it only made him hate this woman even more.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Fierce this one.” She said looking him over like a buyer assessing horse flesh. “Look at his eyes. He’d kill us all if he had the chance.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Excellent.” The third voice said. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>This last person was a man. Though Dee-Ann had never seen such a man. And as the man proceeded to pull back the hood of his cloak, Dee-Ann almost gasped. His skin was moon white. Not the creamy sadsa of Castiel’s complexion. This man looked </span> <span> <em>sick</em> </span> <span>. His skin looked bloodless, and it had a faint blue green tinge to it….like a corpse. A mutilated one. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>His eyes were so pale they looked almost white. His nose jutted at an angle as if it had been smashed back into his face and left to heal. His skin was textured with a mess of scars all over. But these were not the scars of battle. They had been cut into the skin on purpose. There was a shape to them; some hideous design. Strange symbols and runes Dee-Ann did not recognize. Even more disturbing, he could see in some places on his face it looked as if </span> <span> <em>things</em> </span> <span> had been shoved </span> <span> <b>under</b> </span> <span> the skin before it had healed. Dee-Ann could see small irregular bumps that must be amulets or charms. Aaaiiiieeee!!!! What would drive a man to do such a thing?! What horrible powers did those amulets hold? In addition to the scarring, and these amulets under his skin; the man had shot rings through his nose, his lips, his cheeks, his eyebrows and his ears. More amulets and tiny beads dangled from these rings.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>His hair was chalk white - though Dee-Ann did not think he was old – and hung in finger thick braids almost to his waist. More rings and what looked like bones were sewn in along the length of his hair; and an amulet was fixed to his forehead; directly into the skin from what he could see. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>He was naked to the waist. And so skinny it was hard to imagine how he had the strength to stand. Though </span> <span> <b>nothing</b> </span> <span> about him suggested weakness. To Dee-Ann it looked almost as if a frustrated sculptor had gouged huge finger thick grooves into the clay of his chest, the skin dipping almost an inch deep in between each rib; and he looked almost as if he was hunching. His chest and stomach and arms were similarly mutilated as his face, more strange scars, more things under the skin. Dee-Ann could see fresh scabs on his chest. The man had been cutting himself recently. The line of his shoulders – beneath the many necklaces and ropes of beads he wore – looked strange. As if the bones had been broken and never properly set. His feet were bare and caked with either filth or paint of some kind, each bone clearly visible as they moved under his almost translucent skin.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Will he do?” the hawk nosed woman asked impatiently. “My women are ready. They wait only for you to cast the omens. When the sun sets….”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“We will taste his flesh.” The man said, bending down and looking into Dee-Ann’s face. His breath was meaty, and stank of rotted things. And seemed too hot against Dee-Ann’s skin. Dee-Ann’s flesh trembled in concentric waves of revulsion. Goose flesh like scales of fear spread over his skin as the man leaned closer. He stank of sweat, dandruff covered skin and blood.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>His hands – stained black and red with long hooky fingernails like claws – seized Dee-Ann’s face and he winced as he felt a hot, wet tongue lap at his skin. Fresh pain lanced through him as that tongue found his wound. He shook his head to shake the creature off.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The man sat back, his tongue disappearing into his scarred lips as he tasted Dee-Ann’s blood; then spat it onto the floor. His hideous face wore a mask of anger and disgust.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“It is the taste of power on our tongue.” He said spitting again. “Powers he does not know how to use.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“What does that mean?” the hawk nosed woman asked.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“This one is touched.” Said the Witch. “He has the foulness of the Mijaki God on him. We cannot use him to cast the omens. Find us another.” </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Then let me kill him and be done with it.” the hawk nosed woman said unsheathing a blade from beneath her robes. Dee-Ann gasped as she raised it. But it was the man who moved. He brought up one clawed hand and the hawk nosed woman gasped, clutching at her throat and retching as if a hand was choking her. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Did we not say he is Godtouched?” the man asked hand still raised as the woman continued to squirm and wriggle against the invisible hand choking her. Dee-Ann watched in horror. The man was a witch! Some demon ridden thing! The air in the tent crackled with his power, before like a cramp easing; it was gone. The man dropped his clawed hand and the woman fell to her knees. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Apologies my lord Illistur.” The woman said in a hoarse voice. “I meant only…..”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Find us another.” This witch Illistur said, turning away from Dee-Ann and walking to the low table. The hawk nosed woman rushed out of the tent.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“What about him then?” the woman Bara-Bhur asked cocking her head at Dee-Ann as she walked out of the tent as well.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Leave him with us. We wish to play with him.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>*     *     *</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>In the moments that followed, the witch Illistur walked in a slow circle around the mirrors. He was busying himself arranging small clay pots and gathering things Dee-Ann could not see. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <strong>(/*-*)/ ............. \(*-*\) ............. (/*-*)/ ............. \(*-*\) ............. (/*-*)/ ............. \(*-*\)</strong>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He reached into a basket and pulled out the largest Scorpion Dee-Ann had ever seen! It was black as night and menacing. The Witch held it by its tail and the scorpion’s vicious looking pincers snapped uselessly. Plunging the nail of his blackened index finger through the chest, the Scorpion died without a sound.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span> <strong>(/*-*)/ ............. \(*-*\) ............. (/*-*)/ ............. \(*-*\) ............. (/*-*)/ ............. \(*-*\)</strong> </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann gasped. Scorpions were one of the many faces of the God! It was a sin to kill them! </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The witch tossed the dead Scorpion into a stone pestle and began grinding into a pulp with a mortar. Dee-Ann could hear its shell crunching. The witch reached into a pouch a clay pot and tossed in something Dee-Ann could not identify. The Witch went back to his baskets from where he had retrieved the Scorpion and unfurled a snake longer than his arm. Its body was brown and striped. It hissed and snapped at the Witch, curling about his hand with its hood raised.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann prayed with everything he had in him for the snake to strike true. Kill him! Kill him! Kill him! Kill him! Kill him! Kill him! Kill him! Kill him!</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The Witch turned to look at him with a sneer, grabbing the snake by the head and raising it almost loving to his neck. The snake buried its vicious fangs in the Witch’s neck. To Dee-Ann’s horror…..nothing happened. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“He thinks we can be killed by poison? Foolish boy.” The Witch said. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann blinked. How was such a thing possible?!</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span> <strong>(/*-*)/ ............. \(*-*\) ............. (/*-*)/ ............. \(*-*\) ............. (/*-*)/ ............. \(*-*\)</strong> </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The Witch pulled the snake away from his skin and chopped off its head in one smooth motion with a knife he’d produced from nowhere. He tossed the head aside as if nothing had happened. He held the still writhing body of the snake in his left hand. When it went still, he gripped the skin and ripped it off the body of the snake in one smooth motion. Dee-Ann watched – feeling utterly disgusted as the Witch tossed the dripping body of the snake into a basket, and held the limp skin in both hands. Blowing on it Dee-Ann watched incredulously as the skin seemed to curl and shorten. And he realized it was drying out, right in front of his eyes. The dried skin was also added into the pestle and ground up along with the Scorpion shell.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Aaaaaaiiiiiieeeeeeeeee!!!!!! Another sacred animal killed!</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span> <strong>(/*-*)/ ............. \(*-*\) ............. (/*-*)/ ............. \(*-*\) ............. (/*-*)/ ............. \(*-*\)</strong> </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Where he sat, Dee-Ann resumed his twisting to try and free himself in earnest. He had to get away from here. The witch was muttering to himself and Dee-Ann thought he must be insane. Why did he talk about himself as if he was more than one person?</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I am we and we are me.” The Witch whispered, suddenly behind him and speaking over his shoulder. “We are the many. We are the horde. We are those that walk behind. We are the shadows on the wall.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann gasped and jumped with fright. He had not taken his eyes off the Witch. He had been on the other side of the tent. He had not even seen him move! And how did….</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“How did we know what he is thinking?” the Witch said moving into Dee-Ann’s line of sight. “We have many powers. Powers beyond anything in his wildest imaginings. We can show him.” </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Stay away from me Witch!” Dee-Ann snarled. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“A Witch he names us.” He said. “He speaks of things he does not know.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I am Dee-Ann! Precious and beautiful in the God’s eye! You will not touch me!” Dee-Ann snarled. He did not know what this Witch was planning, but could not simply sit there and do nothing. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“He speaks as if there are not other Gods. We know better.” The Witch said. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>When the hawk nosed woman returned to the tent, she had a young boy with her. He could not have been older than thirteen, and Dee-Ann could see he had been crying. He was struggling ineffectually against the vice grip the woman had on the shift he was wearing. A scarlet slave braid hung to his shoulders. He made small, whimpering sounds as if he was going to scream. He opened his mouth when the witch stepped closer to him, but the hawk nosed woman slapped him hard through the face before he could scream. Where he stood the Witch muttered something in a language Dee-Ann did not know. The words were strange. They made him scared somehow. And there was power in them. Dee-Ann could feel it. And his skin crawled as the witch dipped a hand into the pestle in which he ground up the snakeskin and the scorpion, and blew a handful of black powder into the slave boy’s face. The boy’s terrified expression went slack and dreamy as if he was drunk. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The witch slashed a taloned finger along the length of the boy’s cheek. A red line of blood appeared there. The boy did not squirm anymore. Nor did he scream as the witch dipped his fingers into the redness and tasted the blood. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“This one will do nicely.” Illistur said. “Bring him here.” He said stepping out of the way. The hawk nosed woman dragged the boy over the bowl in the middle of the tent. Dee-Ann knew before the witch even moved what was about to happen, and – powerless to stop it – he watched horrified as the Witch slashed his clawed hands over the boy’s throat. The slave’s lifeblood poured into the bowl. The hawk nosed woman held the body over the bowl until the wound was drained. The witch plunged his hands into the dead boy’s face, scooping out his eyes. These he tossed into the nearest torch along with another handful of powder from pouch at his waist. Foul smelling smoke boiled and frothed from the torch, filling the tent and stinging Dee-Ann’s eyes. The hawk nosed woman dropped the body of the slave. And to Dee-Ann’s horror, it did not fall to the floor as he had imagine it would. For a moment, it hung in the air; before it began to blacken and spit as if it was burning. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The witch stood behind the blood filled bowl now. He brought up his taloned hands, and the slave boy’s blackened carcass crumbled into a thin, wispy powder. Somehow the witch had cremated the body without one lick of flame. The ashes fell into the bowl along with the slave boy’s blood. The Witch squatted next to the bowl, plunging his hands into it all the way to his elbows; closing his eyes and beginning to mutter again. His misaligned shoulders heaved as he rocked back and forth; clacking the bones and beads in his hair and making the rings and amulets on his face dance in the firelight. Dee-Ann became aware of something else. It was difficult to see with all the smoke in the tent. But he could almost imagine he could see things moving in the mirrors….Shapes like people shrouded in shadow.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>The pressure behind Dee-Ann’s eyes was building as the Witch continued his chanting. The surface of the blood in the bowl was rippling now. Without warning, all the dead birds hanging from the roof of the tent came </span> <span> <em>alive</em> </span> <span>! They flapped their dead wings and screeched with their dead mouths. It was horrible! Both Dee-Ann and the hawk nosed woman screamed. Then just as suddenly, all went deathly still.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>When he looked up, the Witch Illistur’s milky eyes glowed silver, and he spoke with a voice that was as unnatural as it was terrifying.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“We can see the Scorpion riding the Snake…..” the Witch said. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“The Godsnake of Et-Novakar.” The hawk nosed woman said.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Here are its pincers……here is its raised tail…….” The Witch said.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Where he sat Dee-Ann could see shapes in the smoke. Shapes he could identify. But they terrified him.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“We see this earth littered with the bodies of the vanquished.” The Witch continued. “We hear their silenced voices. We taste their dead flesh on our tongue. The gathering night brings death.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Whose death? Whose bodies? Ours or theirs?” the hawk nosed woman asked.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“The Angel will fall from the sky.” The Witch said finally.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The hawk nosed woman thrust her fist into the air in triumph. “The symbol of the Novakar bloodline is an Angel!”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Victory follows. The omens speaks true.” The Witch said sagging against the bowl. He seemed to have been exhausted by the effort.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I shall spread the word. They die tonight.” The hawk nosed woman said leaving the tent.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>And where he sat Dee-Ann had only one thought in his mind.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Don't hate me! I just didn't want to go too far before we've had the Castiel chapters. There are some key things I need to get out of the way. If it makes anyone feel better, the Queen's Nameday will be the end of Act Two. </p><p>QUESTION: Do you guys want me to keep going with new chapters (i.e Act Three) in this same thread? Or would you prefer the continuation be a separate thread? I only ask because the chapter count is getting high.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0034"><h2>34. Heavy is the head.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel let the scalding water of the bath he’d ordered after leaving the Gypsy camp slide over his head. The body slave whom he’d summoned had given him a less than subtle gaze, but just then Castiel did not care. He dismissed the slaves and enjoyed his bath, scrubbing his own skin until all of Gabriel’s paint had come off and the water had a distinct amber tinge to it. His hair was caught in Gabriel’s braids. It would take him too long to undo them himself and he had other plans for the night hours. He could already hear his Mima’s groans of disapproval the next morning. He seemed to take it as a personal insult any time Castiel dared to touch his own hair. But there was nothing for it. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Stepping out of the water – skin pink and shining from scrubbing – Castiel wrapped a thick woven towel around his waterlogged hair, wrapping himself in favorite shawl and all but attacking the tray of food he’d ordered. His head felt a little light. He’d had a touch too much wine with Dee-Ann on his empty stomach. But he could not bring himself to regret it. The truth was he would probably have sat there all night if he could’ve. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>The memory of Dee-Ann’s smile when Castiel had returned his amulet glittered in his mind like the most perfect diamond. He was always beautiful, but that </span> <span> <em>smile</em> </span> <span>……. It was a sight he would welcome seeing again.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Unbidden though, the memory of Dee-Ann’s story about his mother echoed in his ears. What a horrible woman? Johdilia was fond of reminding him how naïve he was to the workings of the world beyond the Palace. But it was genuinely disgusting that there were parts of the Queendom where male children were little more than cattle. Sold for ten pieces of silver. The beads in Castiel’s hair cost more. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>How had he come to be in the capital? What had happened after those women had bought him? Had they raped him? Had they beat him? How had he escaped them? </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He dropped the piece of cheese he was about to bite into. He’d lost his appetite. He didn’t want to think about the horrors Dee-Ann had probably survived in his life. The same horrors he – Castiel – would have had to endure if an accident of birth and lucky geography hadn’t put him in the Palace when he was pulled from his mother’s womb. It was a sobering thought.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“Happy childhoods rarely make for interesting people.” He quoted one of Gabriel’s plays aloud to himself. He sighed. He was beginning to think Dee-Ann was </span> <span> <em>very</em> </span> <span> interesting indeed.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>He shook his head. He was being ridiculous. There was a name for this feeling he had in his chest every time he thought about Dee-Ann and the warmth of his hand. Those eyes he could get lost in. And that name, was </span> <span> <b>dangerous</b> </span> <span>.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>Dee-Ann was a peasant. And more than that, Castiel knew there was every chance that he did not share Castiel’s….</span> <span> <em>interest</em> </span> <span>. After the business with Tran, Castiel had had to come to terms with the fact that he was not like other boys. He had no interest in women. His lust stirred for men. And while it was not completely unheard of it was certainly not the norm. Men fucking other men was fodder for writers and artists. He had done enough reading to know that women apparently found the sight of two men together highly arousing. He did not understand why. The idea of two women in that way turned his stomach. But it would still be a massive scandal if anyone were to learn the truth about Castiel. To listen to Gabriel the Court was already abuzz with rumors and conjecture. He did not think haring about in disguise to go and sit around fires with a beautiful peasant man would do him any favors. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>And just because he desired Dee-Ann, did not mean that he felt the same. True, he had said that he would like to see Castiel again. But that could mean anything. Perhaps he merely enjoyed his company. Perhaps he’d thought that was what he </span> <span> <b>had</b> </span> <span> to said because Castiel was a Prince. With a long sigh Castiel realized that even if – if, if, </span> <span> <b>if – </b> </span> <span>against all logic and reason and likelihood, Dee-Ann </span> <span> <em>did</em> </span> <span> desire him……</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel was a Prince, and betrothed besides. There was no chance. No future. Not to mention that the only reason Dee-Ann was even here was for the Queen’s nameday celebration. In two days he would be gone. And Castiel would never see him again.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>A pang of….something….stabbed in his chest at the thought. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He was being stupid and childish. Dee-Ann was a wonderful distraction. But he had other things to focus on.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>Pushing himself to his feet, he donned what he was beginning to think of as his </span> <span> <em>sneaking</em> </span> <span> outfit. His mother and sisters would be returning from their hunt tomorrow and he still needed to get into his Mother’s Private Office. Remembering the last time he’d tried – the night he’d met Dee-Ann – he made certain to tuck one of the knives from his dinner tray into his belt. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>*     *     *</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>It took him longer than he would’ve liked to effect his escape from his tower and back to the Great Keep. The guards were patrolling in greater numbers and with much more efficiency now. Delegations from neighboring fiefdoms and provinces had been arriving in a steady stream over the course of the last few days, requiring greater security. But eventually, he found himself standing in front of the great doors of his Mother’s office.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>Removing his blade, he sliced across his palm, pumping his fingers to make the blood well. Wincing, he rubbed his fingers along the inside of his hand; coating them in hot blood and smearing his hand across the lock on the door. His arm lit up with goose bumps all the way to his elbow. With a sound like fabric tearing, he watched as the bloody hand print drained into the wood; and invisible sigils which had been cast on the door began to glow the blue green light of Godsbreath. They thrummed with </span> <span> <em>power</em> </span> <span> before draining away. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Pushing on the handle, he felt the lock give and he pushed one of the doors open. The air inside the office smelled stale, and it was completely black beyond the doors. Steadying himself with a breath, his tattoos glowed bright gold as he summoned a tiny corona of light in his hand. Looking around, he spotted a neat pile of logs next to small fire place built into the far wall. Walking over to it, Castiel tossed two logs into the grate and lit them with his ball of light. The fire was sluggish to light. The logs had grown moist in the cold and damp of the stone room. It seemed to Castiel that his mother had not been in here in a while. Once the fire was crackling in the corner, Castiel could now see oil lamps in ornate sconces lining the walls. Removing his cloak and draping it over the back of an overstuffed chair next to the fire, he lit the lamps quickly. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>In the increased light he could now see more of the room. The Office was quite large. Especially considering that this room was never seen by anyone but the Queen. There was a huge desk of carved oak and stone – covered with papers – in front of the only window in sight. The thing dominated the space. A series of ornate shelves hung on the opposite wall facing the fire. On these were a multitude of clay pots. Some were small and squat. Some were large and more intricate. They were painted in reds and greens and blues and some were even cunningly covered in stones and beads. At the center of each was a large golden disc, emblazoned with the crests of the Warlord that had sent these. With a casual look Castiel identified the Falcon of Et-Haravelle and the Wood Cat of Et-Bajadek. The Wolfhound of Et-Mamiklia and the Leaping Trout of Et-Taklikar. He had had to study them all as a child.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Treaty idols. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Inside each one was a parchment signed in the Warlord’s blood; swearing fealty to the Queen and the Novaki bloodline. Breaking one of these and tearing the parchment was a declaration of war.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel felt his mouth pull into a hard line as he saw the Horned Goat of House Shatan. He did not know the name of the city from which Li-Illitur had sent this. The fiefdoms and geography of the Western Isles were all but unknown. But even this little idol carried the same sinister sense about it as everything else Castiel had seen that had to do with Li-Illitur and her ilk. It had the shape of an amphora, and it looked heavy. Its coarse surface was painted red and black as if it had been dipped in blood. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He shuddered, having to curl his fingers into fists to keep himself from smashing the thing then and there! But he knew it would be a futile exercise. His fate was sealed. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Forcing his eyes away from the treaty idols, he walked around the desk and sat in the huge chair there. It was far too large for him, much wider than his hips and taller than the top of his head standing. It made sense. His mother was a tall women, and very muscular even at her age. He assumed – since his mother was never without her armor – that these ridiculous dimensions must have been designed to accommodate a woman in full plate.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>He began by looking over the papers on the desk first. Most were financial ledgers regarding the various preparations for the Queen’s nameday. These would have been written by the many accountants and bankers employed by the treasury. And while Castiel was a bit taken aback by the sheer vastness of some of the sums the Queen was spending on these celebrations….they weren’t at all what he was looking for. Truth be told, he didn’t know just </span> <span> <em>what</em> </span> <span> he </span> <span> <b>was</b> </span> <span> looking for. But he knew there must be something. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>The drawers of the desk yielded more documents and clay tablets. There were tax reports from neighboring Warlords and detailed ledgers detailing the working of the Palace. Castiel sighed. He was swiftly beginning to despair that he had gone through all the effort of breaking into this Office for nothing. But he was here now. So he decided to make the most of things. After the first hour – judging by the markings on the side of the oil lamps – Castiel moved on to the anteroom next to the desk. There was a small privy chamber, and a second, windowless room lined from floor to ceiling with shelves. These were kept behind a latticework of metal doors. And instantly, Castiel knew </span> <span> <em>this</em> </span> <span> was what he had been looking for. The Queen was many things. But she was not stupid. She would never leave any important information lying around anywhere a slave or a cunning thief could easily find it. And anything she deemed important or private enough to lock away in her own Offices, was something he wanted to see.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He could not find the keys to the metal doors anywhere. But the locks were small, and easily forced open with his knife. As soon as he had the doors open, Castiel could see that the Queen seemed to have arranged the documents according to some meticulous system. He did know what it was, but he decided it would be best to read the information in portions, so that he could be sure to return them to their proper place.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Scooping up the first armful of rolled up scrolls, he returned to the desk. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>*     *     *</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Time passed. He spent it reading. Eventually the night grew cold and he had to replace the logs in the fireplace more than once. Castiel sat back. His head was aching, and he had not even made it passed half of the documents in the anteroom. The picture that was beginning to form in his mind was a grim one. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>From all over the continent, there were private letters written by various warlords asking for assistance owing to crop failures, cattle deaths, droughts that had dried up whole streams and countless wells; and lightning storms that had set dry landscapes alight and caused devastating fires. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel frowned. How had he not known any of this? Why had no one told him?</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Far more disturbing was the fact that – as far as Castiel could see – none of these requests for aid had been answered by the Queen. It seemed the only thing she had done was to send soldiers to practically every province in Mijak. He shook his head. An increased military presence would serve to quell the increased number of highway bandits and criminals perhaps…..but it would do nothing to help the people. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>And he found other letters from angry warlords demanding to know why the Queen had actually </span> <span> <em>raised</em> </span> <span> taxes? Castiel set aside a particularly disturbing letter from El-Ahn Warlord in Et-Haravelle. She reported that she had done as the Queen asked and conscripted an additional three thousand women into the army and was sending them to the training academy in the Eastern Reach. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Why was his mother swelling the army? Why was she ignoring “the Browning of Mijak” – as apparently it was being called from the various letters Castiel had seen – and raising taxes?</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Returning to the antechamber Castiel saw – on a low shelf – a series of scrolls tipped with the Horned Goat of house Shatan. No doubt these would be the letters discussing the betrothal and Castiel’s dowry and husband price. Morbidly curious, he bent down and scooped them up. If he was to be sold like a fattened lamb, at the very least he wanted to know what price he’d fetched.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Sitting at the desk again, he unrolled all of the scrolls. He wanted to be sure he read them in the correct order, so for the moment he scanned only the dates at the top of each one. He could see imprints on the paper where locks had once held them closed. These would have been broken when the Queen read them for the first time. Having finally arranged them in order, Castiel began reading.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>And felt the bottom of the world fall out from under him at what he saw there…..</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>*     *     *</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“It cannot be true.” Gabriel said the following morning, looking down at the scroll Castiel had given him to read.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>They were sitting in a small solarium nestled in the Southern tower. It was dark and close, with only tiny windows. But Castiel did not dare produce this scroll anywhere else. He had taken it with him the night before, after meticulously relocking the Queen’s office and sealing it with his tiny godstone. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I know. But it is.” Castiel said softly. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“There must be some explanation. Perhaps….” Gabriel began then trailed off, struggling to find the right words. “Unless of course we’re misunderstanding things entirely?”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“What’s to misunderstand Gabriel? Read it again if you must.” Castiel said annoyed. He’d barely slept. And the scroll had all but burned a hole through his mind as he’d suffered through the Mima’s ministrations that morning. He’d wanted to rush to find Gabriel as soon as the newsun had peaked out from behind the horizon. But with so many nobles and visitors from around Mijak in the Palace, he’d had to force himself to be patient. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I know but….” Gabriel began but Castiel cut him off. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Our mother is plotting with Li-Illitur to start a civil war.” He said acidly. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I don’t understand. I….” Gabriel said with a long sigh. His expression was one of absolute confusion.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I read the letters my love. These and many others. There can be no doubt.” Castiel said. “She has promised lands and titles to Li-Illitur that currently reside in the hands of other warlords. And she’s not the only one.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“But why would she do something like this? Mijak is at peace. One of the longest periods of peace we’ve had in three generations.” Gabriel said still sounding incredulous.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I don’t doubt that bloodlust is a part of it. But I suspect it is because of the browning.” Castiel ventured getting up out of his seat. He was too full of nervous energy. He paced around the room. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“The warlords are angry. They have repeatedly asked for aid and received nothing but higher taxes and soldiers in their cities. And angry warlords will often band together. Many of the Godspeakers suspect that this browning is a curse. I found letters and clay tablets from Bobarak High Godspeaker reporting this. Some warlords are saying the God is punishing Mijak for our mother’s wickedness. I read a letter from the Warlord of Et-Takona accusing her of being demonstruck. Of fucking with demons and turning away from the Light.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Do you agree with them?” Gabriel asked. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I think it would be foolish to ignore the possibility.” Castiel said pulling his braid over his shoulder so he could tug on it. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“We have to speak to someone. Someone who can help us. Ana perhaps? Or Nerissa?” Gabriel suggested hopefully.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Do you really think our Mother hasn’t informed her Warleader and her firstborn heir of her plottings?” Castiel said all but rolling her eyes. It was Gabriel’s turn to be naïve apparently. “I have no doubt our sisters support this lunacy wholeheartedly.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Light blind them all.” Gabriel said wincing as if he was sitting on something. Reaching into the pocket of his gown, he extracted a small bundle of folded parchment. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“What is that?” Castiel asked squinting.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Gabriel gave a dismissive wave. “I was going to give this to you. A sort of a gift. The complete adventures of Isaora. I had a scribe draw it up for you.” He said with a smile as if he thought it was pathetic.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel smiled at him. “I’ll have that thanks.” He said holding out his hands.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“You mean it?” Gabriel asked brightening. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Give it here.” Castiel said taking the parchment. He put it into his pocket carefully and gave Gabriel a quick kiss. He was a silly one. But perhaps that was what Castiel loved about him most.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>Gabriel in the meantime was re-reading the scroll in front of him. “I still don’t understand how mother could possibly have concocted all of this without anyone </span> <span> <em>noticing</em> </span> <span>.” Gabriel said tossing the scroll down on the table as if it burned his hand.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Think Gabriel. See the patterns. Et-Banotaj is the largest port the Crown has in the West. It is the key to all trade from the Vilandran Ocean to the Capital. Uriel was married to the Crown Princess. He was only eleven. Amenadiel? Married off to that frog faced old cow of a Warlord. Which nicely secured all the many caravans and neverending river of slaves from beyond the Drag. The Southern Isles? You may recall they hold some of the largest ore mines in the continent. Ore we use to make steel. And conveniently you were offered to marry Idan. And Li-Illitur controls a fleet and military force to rival…if not dwarf our Mother’s.” Castiel said bitterly.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Our betrothals.” Gabriel said looking dumbstruck. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“</span> <span> <b>We</b> </span> <span> are the price that was paid to legalize all of this.” Castiel said. “I’ve been such a fool! I </span> <span> <em>heard</em> </span> <span> the Reverend Mother saying this that night I followed Kufu. But I never dreamed……”</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“But you said that Kufu was not aware of all of their plans. What if </span> <span> <b>we</b> </span> <span> spoke to him? Or failing that we could reach out to Bobarak High Godspeaker himself?” Gabriel asked. Castiel tossed his braid over his shoulder in frustration. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Gabriel. Our mother can barely read. And I know for a fact she cannot write more than a few symbols. Who do you think penned all of this?” he said quickly, circling his finger above the scroll.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“You think they know…” Gabriel said more than asked. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I think this has been their plan all along.” Castiel said growing pensive. “Them and those Spiders from the Tooth.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“One thing troubles me.” Gabriel began. “The Southern Isles are just that. </span> <span> <em>Isles</em> </span> <span>. They are not connected to the mainland. They’re a colony. The Eastern reach is right on the border with the Anvil and the nameless lands beyond. Et-Banotaj is the only city of any import. And any cultural significance it once had has all but fallen away. And we know so little of what lies beyond the Western Sea and the lands of House Sha-Tan……”</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel frowned. He had the distinct impression Gabriel had happened upon something he himself had not even considered. The waiting moments were filled with dread. And something in the back of his mind stirred. “Go on.” He urged when Gabriel trailed off. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“Light blind me. It would be heresy. To even </span> <span> <em>think</em> </span> <span> such a thing would be blasphemy of the highest order. But she has </span> <span> <em>always</em> </span> <span> idolized her. Even our grandmother once said……..But it can’t be.. Such a thing would spit in the eye of the God and </span> <span> <b>surely</b> </span> <span> see her freezing in Hell for all eternity.” Gabriel stuttered, speaking more to himself than to Castiel. It was clear that there were many things warring in his brother’s mind. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Gabriel what?!” Castiel said. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I think she means to follow in the footsteps of Ursa.” Gabriel said falling into a whisper. Castiel’s eyes widened.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Ursa – or Ursa the Conqueror as she was more often known – was their ancestor from too many generations ago to name. When the God was young, and Mijak as it is today did not yet exist. She had launched a military campaign that drenched the world in blood, trying to unify all corner of the known world under her banner.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“One Warlord for all of Mijak.” Castiel whispered. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He understood Gabriel’s fear. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>*     *     *</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>To his mind there was practically not a person alive who did not know the fate of Ursa the Conqueror. For her wickedness in thinking to gain such power as to rival the God itself, the God – as the legend went – reached out a finger and touched the Earth. And from that place sprung swarms of Scorpions and stinging flies and suck-you-dries and spiders and rats and snakes and vermin. All laden with disease and poison. They hunted Ursa and every woman in her army who had followed her in her madness. Plague swept the lands of Ursa. And in her madness, she refused to repent her twisted greed.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The stone beneath their feet cracked. Their armor rusted through and their blades shattered. The oceans boiled around their ships. And mountains rose and fell around them as they tried to escape their punishment.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>And from the desert, walked a single young girl. She had the marks of the God on her skin. And when a Scorpion stung her, it turned to stone and she placed it on her forehead. A snake that tried to strike her; coiled around her neck and became metal. The flies that fed on the corpses became shining beads in her hair. She inhaled all other creatures that tried to stand in her way. Clothing herself in robes spun from the smoke of the burnt dead. And picking up a stone from the ground in front of her, it began to glow with the God’s light. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>She was Uma. The first Godspeaker.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>With the light from her Godstone, she smote Ursa; boiling her alive in her armor. And through its chosen voice in this world, the God decreed that everything the Light touched was its domain, and that there must never be a single Warlord of Mijak else it would rain hell again.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The Godspeakers – with their borrowed power from being touched by the God – would remain in the world to disseminate its will. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>And for their vanity, the children of Women would forever bow their heads before the God, begging its forgiveness through sacrifice and offering. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>*     *     *</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>It was a story everyone knew. Practically the foundation of their entire society. Gabriel was standing beside him suddenly, and Castiel turned to look at him. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Speak of this no more brother.” He said in a sharp whisper, touching his fingertips to Castiel’s lips. “Even walls have ears.” </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Gabriel I….” Castiel began.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Tch! Tch! Tch!” Gabriel said smiling widely. “It’ll be alright. Somehow. You’ll see.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“How can it?” Castiel asked dismally.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Gabriel mustered the strength to chuckle. “Oh Hen. We must keep our faith in the Light.” He said simply. “The day we abandon all hope, is the day we lose it altogether.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel shook his head, gathering his brother into his arms with an indulgent sigh. “We will…..think of something. But later. Right now we have to….make ready…..” Gabriel said, his smile growing a touch forced.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“For the arrival.” Castiel said softly. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The Western Delegation had arrived. They would be greeted formally by the Queen and her Blood.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Find me later?” Gabriel asked. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I love you.” Castiel said to Gabriel’s retreating back, who swirled dramatically and blew him a long kiss before turning the corner. As soon as he was alone Castiel felt his stomach drop.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Li-Illitur was here.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>*     *     *</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel returned to his chambers to find his Mima and her team waiting. He steeled his resolve with a breath. He was stripped and bathed, before sitting down in front of the mirror. His damp hair was coated in a thin layer of wax and combed back tightly enough from his face to make him wince. He shot a disapproving glance at the Mima, but she merely shrugged and showed him the drawing that had accompanied the costume. Apparently there was some preferred way for his hair to be worn with the outfit sent. No less than three body slaves set to work on his hair, working with a combination of fingers, combs and steel quills to braid the full length of it into in an intricate club down his back. When the Mima produced a black wooden box engraved with the Horned Goat Head, he began to understand. Apparently there was a particular accessory that he was supposed to wear in his hair. He looked to the side.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>On a mannequin next to the mirror was the gown Li-Illitur had sent as a tribute. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He groaned his disgust. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>By now the Mima had affixed the head ornaments. If that is what they were. Two half moons of what looked like hammered brass, fitted with spikes; had been slotted into Castiel’s hair to frame his face like some kind of split crown. Along the middle parting of his hair, a chain had been pinned, ending in a gold disc which was secured to his forehead with a drop of beeswax. His eyes and lips had been painted dark, and his forehead was red. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>He hated it. But even so, he had to admit that – while much </span> <span> <em>darker</em> </span> <span> and more sinister – it was a look that would command the attention of everyone in the Great Hall.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Absently he found himself wondering what Dee-Ann would think if he could see him now.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He made sure his horned amulet was tucked beneath his shift as the arduous process began of getting him into the gown.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>It was unlike anything he had ever worn. The fabric looked to be a thick satin, in a deep red color. But it had been shot through with glinting black metal thread to make beehive pleats from hem to collar, a shiny little bead fixed at each intersection. Castiel winced. Despite his misgivings about the gown, he could not deny the effect was….</span> <span> <b> <em>striking</em> </b> </span> <span>. The diamond shaped pleats combined with the sheen of the fabric and beads to give the appearance of wet and glistening snake scales. The sheer amount of fabric, time and skill it must’ve taken to do something like </span> <span> <em>that</em> </span> <span> was a message in of itself. Li-Illitur was showing her wealth. The bodice was high necked and long sleeved. It covered him almost completely save for his face and hands. As soon as he’d put it on, it became clear why the stays that had accompanied the costume had been laced so tightly around his waist. The gown clung to him in a way that was almost lurid. Below the hips – similarly shown off in vivid detail by the cut of the gown, the skirt billowed out into a trumpet shape which dragged heavily on the ground behind him in a moderate train.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The gown had no other decoration. But over the bodice was a separate piece of hammered leather. This would be lashed to his chest with two long leather straps which crossed over his sternum and passed under his arms to buckles on the back. It looked almost like a breastplate. The only purpose of the garment seemed to be to secure two shoulder pieces over the gown. These Castiel could see were the tops of two ram skulls, dipped in black metal. They reached halfway down his biceps.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Horrid.” He said under his breath as the body slave helped him into the shoes. They were short boots that reached midway up his calves. Supple black leather, but they were pointed ridiculously and the heels were dangerously elevated. And he noticed the heels were made of hammered metal. They would make a noise every time he took a step on the stone floors. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>Taking his first few experimental steps, he sighed. The gown was </span> <span> <em>heavy</em> </span> <span> as it seemed to slither and pool about his feet. And he was laced into it so tightly he had to adjust his breathing. The feeling was like being trapped in a too small space. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“My fan.” He said to no one in particular. “The Raven feather one. I’ll never get through the evening without it.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“A moment My Lord. We have already packed it. If you’ll just give us a moment to find it.” the Mima said bowing his head deeply. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Packed?” Castiel asked confused. It was only as he walked into his closet properly that he saw the trunks and cases and baskets and boxes. Most of his things had been packed away. He rounded on the Mima in confusion. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Apologies my Lord. We received instruction to pack up the rooms and have everything ready for you to travel once her Majesty’s nameday celebrations were concluded. The Queen sent a Messenger as soon as she returned to the Palace this morning...” The man said sounding flustered and confused. Castiel’s breath froze in his chest.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>That </span> <span> <em>bitch</em> </span> <span>.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Drawing himself up to his full height. He sat down in front of the mirror again. He pointed at the box Gabriel had brought the other night. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“The costume is too dreary. I think I want to add some color.” He said already spearing the pad of his thumb on a comb and opening the lock, blowing away the hint of Godbreath. He heard the Mima gasp as the Wedding necklace was revealed. Castiel smiled cruelly as the Mima fitted it around his neck.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The time had come for him to seek out his Mother.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Just some supplemental pics to help you guys visualize what Cas is wearing:</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel's hairstyle.</span>
</p><p class="normal">
  <span>
    
  </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>A similar but not quite design of Castiel's headdress</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>
    
  </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The pleating that is covering the gown. You have to imagine beads at every point of intersection:</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>
    
  </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0035"><h2>35. Crown of Thorns</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="normal">
  <span>The gown pooled and flowed about his feet like oil as Castiel walked. The weight of the thing heavily curtailed his speed, and the ridiculous heels of his shoes announced his every footfall like a galloping horse on the stone floors. He walked alone. His usual retinue of guards had been assigned to oversee the arrival of guests, as well as patrol the gypsy camp. There were a lot of Noble Houses represented in the Palace at present. And not all of them allies. Tensions were high.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel ignored the gaze of the courtiers he passed. It was possible they had never seen him before. And he could only imagine what a figure he cut just then in a gown like snake scales with two goat heads on his shoulders and enough wealth around his neck to buy and sell their entire province three times over. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He didn’t have time for their petty stares of simple minded lives just then.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>His mother would be in the small council chamber at the back of the Great Hall. From there it would be easy for her to go – unseen – to her throne to welcome the Western Delegation. Castiel felt a fresh wave of bile rise in his throat at the thought that in less than two scant hours he would be in Li-Illitur’s presence. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He walked faster. He knew the Great Hall would already be clogged with people. Nobles fighting for the best seats. It all seemed so stupid and pointless. Near as he could tell none of them even suspected that if his Mother had her way they would be at war in as many godmoons. The large courtyard in front of the Great Hall was a melting pot of activity. The gravel was hidden under wooden boards that been laid down. And a huge scaffolding network supported the seats that had been constructed for entertainments which would begin in earnest later that day. Despite his fury, Castiel found himself looking without looking for a glimpse of Dee-Ann. It was ludicrous of course. But he thought perhaps if he could just see him. See his smile or just lose himself for a moment in those unknowable green eyes…..that he might feel a bit better. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He chastised himself for a fool. Now was not the time. And he hadn’t seen hide nor hair of him anyway.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel slipped unnoticed down a side corridor ignoring the guards who tried to halt him as he walked down the hallway – which ran the length of the Great Hall above them – and up to the Small Council chamber. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He wrenched the heavy brass doorknob to turn and pushed the door open, awkwardly maneuvering the train of his skirt so it didn’t get pinched as the door closed behind him. As expected, his mother was sitting at the small round table with her back to the window; the snake Kufu at her side. They both turned to look at him with surprise. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“What are you…..?” his mother began.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Kufu out.” Castiel said striding all the way and resting his hands on the table. The Godspeaker – dressed in finely embroidered robes for the occasion – rose from his seat angrily. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“You do not command me! I am Godspeaker here!” he barked. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Then go be Godspeaker somewhere else.” Castiel said leveling him with his gaze. “I would speak with my mother and I don’t need your sniveling sycophantism fogging up the air.” </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“You little…..” Kufu began, but broke off when his mother held up a hand. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“It is alright Kufu. If my son wishes to have a tantrum I’d rather it not be in front of an audience.” She said in a bored tone, her habitual scowl never wavering. The Godspeaker bobbed on the spot for a moment. He clearly had </span> <span> <em>much</em> </span> <span> more that he would’ve liked to say on the matter. But the Queen had as much as ordered him out of the room. So he made a tcha! sort of a sound and muttered under his breath all the way to the door. Castiel’s eyes never left his mother’s while they waited for the door to close. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>His mother was outfitted in her usual armor. Though Castiel could see it had been polished to a high shine, and a magnificent cape of scarlet velvet trimmed in fox fur hung from her pointed and spiked spaulders. Castiel almost chuckled. Of course. She’d want to look her best for her co-conspirator. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“What is the meaning of this?” the Queen all but hissed at him as soon as they are alone. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“The meaning?” Castiel barked. “You packed up my rooms? Without even so much as a proper greeting or even bothering to discuss the matter with me?”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“There is no thing to discuss. You have known this day was coming for </span> <span> <em>years</em> </span> <span>.” She said, drawing out the words as if Castiel was a simple child she had to explain a problem to. “How surprised can you be?”</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“At your desperation to be rid of me and all your male children? I assure you, the surprise is very little.” Castiel said wanting to run around the table and slap her horrible face until his arms grew weak. “At the depths of your madness and depravity however, I must admit I haven’t words sufficient to say…..”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“What are you prattling about now?” she said, still the picture of bored indulgence where she sat. She wasn’t even looking at him now, instead examining the goblet of wine she was drinking. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I’ve seen the letters mother. All of them. I know my dowry buys you a war.” Castiel said bitterly. “And I have guessed your dark purpose behind it.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>At this the Queen finally looked at him .Though if he was expecting her to look shocked or surprised, or anything but livid he was destined to be disappointed. The Queen scowled at him, then half smiled as she drained the goblet of wine. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“You mean on one of your little nighttime expeditions into my private affairs?” she drawled, reaching for the decanter in the center of the table and pouring herself more wine. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“You knew?” Castiel said more than asked. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Bah!” she gave a chortle that sounded more like she was choking. “Of course I knew! Did you think yourself so clever and stealthy that no one would notice a foolish boy blundering about the Palace sticking his nose into the things that are none of your business? The guards have told me all. Fucking a peasant in the Great Keep like a common whore. And a male no less…”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“</span> <span> <em>If</em> </span> <span> I was, it is only because I was following the fine example set by my whore mother.” Castiel fired off. The Queen’s scowl deepened at this. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“Did you think yourself cunning? Did you think if you spoiled yourself and it became known throughout the lands that you prefer cock to cunt it would stop Li-Illitur marrying you?” the Queen asked. Castiel fought the urge to gasp. He had </span> <span> <em>not</em> </span> <span>. And he was angry at himself for it. “Rest assured. It will not. Your father was similarly afflicted and I fucked ten children out of him.”</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>‘Out of him </span> <span> <em>and</em> </span> <span> others.’ Castiel thought cruelly, though his heart leapt to learn that his Father had been like </span> <span> <b>him</b> </span> <span>.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“My cunning is not the problem.” Castiel said quickly. “The madness of a Queen who is willingly bringing this country to the brink of civil war however, </span> <span> <b>is</b> </span> <span>.”</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The Queen sighed heavily. “You speak of things you do not know. Or understand. Yet another reason statecraft and the intricacies of ruling an empire are beyond the wits of men.” She continued.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I know you have taxed the people to the point of starvation. I know your sister Warlords grow tired of your war mongering and I know you’re whoring out your children as fast as you possibly can to try and grab at as much power as you can before they can rise up against you.” Castiel said pushing off from the table and stabbing an accusing finger in the air. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“I am responsible </span> <span> <b> <em>for</em> </b> </span> <span> the people! Not </span> <span> <b> <em>to</em> </b> </span> <span> them! War is inevitable.” The Queen said, and Castiel could see madness in her eyes. Smugness even. He could see the desire. The bloodlust. “It stirs the blood of a nation and strengthens its people.”</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“Mayhaps it does.” Castiel said. “It </span> <span> <em>also</em> </span> <span> has the convenient benefit of culling the masses. Reducing the number of peasants you cannot feed.”</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The Queen looked amused again. “Is that what you think?”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“That is what I know. In my….blundering….” Castiel said over emphasizing the word. “I saw your letters yes. But I saw other things. I know that grain production is down by forty percent across the map. And that is just in the last ten years. I know that rivers are drying up and the land is beset by fires in Provinces where it has not rained in years. I know the sun shrivels the vines before even one grape can grow in Et-Mamiklia to make that wine you’re drinking. There is barely any cotton or silk being prodced across the continent. I know there is blight that has swallowed whole herds of cattle and where there were once rivers of gold and silver and iron spilling forth from the mines, now there is but a trickle!”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“And I know there are many who suspect it is a curse. A curse that can be laid at your feet.” Castiel spat. “The God sees the madness in your heart and it is punishing you!”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Punishing me?! For spreading its greatness? For all the hundreds of thousands and millions of souls I have fed it in my life? That my foremothers have fed it?!” the Queen boomed loud enough that the walls practically shook. “You dare accuse me of madness? I am the most powerful woman in the world! Who is fit to stand beside the God as an equal if not me?! You say I am cursed? I say I do not care!”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Of course not.” Casitel said softly. “You don’t care about anything but yourself. You would burn this entire world to the ground if it meant you could be Queen of the ashes. You forget. The more your tighten your fist, the more people you squeeze out between your fingers.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Are you to be my advisor now?” The Queen asked with a ridiculous smirk. Castiel rounded on her. “Leave my sight. I tire of your bleating. The world is the world and no boy child will speak to me like this.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“You have never been a mother to me! Just as you were no fit wife to my Father! You cuckholded him! You beat him!” Castiel yelled. At this the Queen’s expression cracked. It was Castiel’s turn to smile cruelly. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“Oh yes! Did you think no one knew? That no one ever saw the bruises through the paint? That no one ever guessed the purpose behind all the gifts and the jewels and ridiculous love ballads you had the minstrels write? He </span> <span> <b>hated</b> </span> <span> you!” Castiel said his voice growing thick with emotion. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“You are a failure as a wife and a </span> <span> <em>failure</em> </span> <span> as a woman!” Castiel barked watching the Queen’s temper rise with every word. “But at the very </span> <span> <b>least</b> </span> <span> I used to console myself that you were a good </span> <span> <em>Queen</em> </span> <span> to your people! Now I see you have failed even in that!”</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The Queen’s hand was around his throat before he had even registered that she had moved. He felt pain blossom in his shoulders and the back of his neck as he was slammed up against the stone wall. Her grip was bruisingly tight, and she lifted held him on his toes. He could see her other hand formed into a fist ready to strike. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I will kill you! I could snap you neck like a chicken and be done with it!” she shouted.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He stared at her defiantly. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“Go on then!” he strangled out. “Blacken my eyes! Bloody my nose! Smash my teeth! Show me this </span> <span> <em>power</em> </span> <span> you’re so proud of! It’s no less than Li-Illitur will do to me! Though I do wonder if she’ll be quite as keen to marry me if she finds me in such a state?” </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The Queen growled like a bear before dropping her hand. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Get out.” She snarled. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel sank to the floor once she’d let him go. His head was throbbing and a sick nauseous feeling bubbled up in him. His scrubbed his hand under his nose, but there was no moisture there. But he gritted his teeth. He would not give her the satisfaction of seeing him sputtering and cowering on the ground.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Instead, he smiled; tossing the braid that had fallen over his shoulder dramatically. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“The most powerful, woman, in the world.” He said smugly. “And you can’t even strike your own son.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He turned in a swish of skirts and clacking beads, the heavy gown dragging behind like rain…..</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>*</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>They were the last words he ever spoke to his Mother.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>*</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>As soon as he opened the doors he was met by Kufu, who had clearly been trying to listen at the door. Castiel glared his hatred at him. Kufu glared back with equal malice. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“You have been a thorn in my side for years. With your fowl temperament and your wicked tongue. I pray nightly and daily that the Morningstar will put you in your place.” Kufu hissed in a low voice, his words dripping with venom.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“At least one good thing will come of me being forced to marry that Demon. As King in the West I will no longer have to bow my head to vermin like you.” Castiel spat as he stalked off.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>*     *     *</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>As soon as he was out of sight from anyone, Castiel let himself slump against the wall. He was out of breath, and he felt suddenly deflated. Just then he would’ve given his weight in gold for the chance to be alone and properly examine everything that had been said. But there was no time. The gong announcing the hour had struck. He was due in the Great Hall.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Sniffing loudly, he pushed off from the wall with a groan. Everything was too heavy suddenly. The gown, his necklace, his own hair….he felt sure he would collapse under the weight of it all. Not to mention that his stays were digging into his ribs. And the day had barely begun. Perhaps he would take a page from Gabriel’s book and change his costume before the evening’s entertainments. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He made his way to the Great Hall, and taking a bracing breath; assumed his most regal poise. There were thousands of eyes in there and he did not intend to lose any face today. The gong sounded, and the announcer called his name. He heard the entire hall shift around to look at him. He heard several people gasp, and the hall was filled with the rumbling of thousands of whispers all at once. Folding his hands in front of him, Castiel walked slowly down the central aisle, giving everyone a chance to look at him. He fixed his eyes in front of him until he was seated in his appropriate seat on the raised dais. Six of siblings were there, all dressed in fine costumes of their own. Those absent either too far or – in Peliel’s case – unable to attend.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Gabriel gave him a jubilant nod as he walked by him to take his seat at the far left. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He gratefully accepted a goblet of wine from a passing slave, sipping it delicately despite his thirst. The gong sounded again a few minutes later, and everyone in the hall stood for the Queen’s entrance.  She strode in gravely, armor clinking and heavy cloak dragging. Castiel did not look at her. Though he felt the heat of her hatred scald him a few times as she made her way down the long aisle. Kufu was right behind her, holding his hands in front of him with his palms touching. He had donned his Scorpion pectoral and a purple Godstone hung from a thong around his neck.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>When she was seated, and everyone else had resumed her seat as well; the moment Castiel had been dreading for years arrived. The doors to the Great Hall opened and the gong heralding the arrival of the Western Delegation sounded.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>The sound of many armored feet came charging in. He had heard from Palace gossip that Li-Illitur traveled with a small war band as her escort. They were dressed in the hideous armor he remembered from the envoy he had met previously. Though each had a different configuration of bones and skulls and….</span> <span> <em>things</em> </span> <span>… festooned to their armor. Their faces were hidden by helmets, though they looked intimidating as the helmets were hammered to resemble screaming faces. Castiel counted fifty as they jogged with surprising speed for women in full plate down the aisle. When they reached the dais they split into two perfectly straight lines, standing at attention with their swords and spears in front of them, and their shields tight against their chests. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Behind them, three shadowy figures appeared. Castiel was surprised to see two men flanking the hooded figure in the middle. They all wore hoods, but the two men were shirtless beneath their cloaks. The gong sounded again.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Li-Illitur Warlord of House Sha-Tan!” said the announcer.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>At this, the hooded figure pulled back her hood and dropped her cloak; revealing herself to the masses who strained to catch a glimpse of her. Castiel closed his eyes, uttering a wordless prayer. She was here.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>She was shorter than he had expected. Though she was a powerful woman, broad and muscled. Her armor was black like the rest, though Castiel thought she had more bones than the others. They accentuated her breadth as she walked ahead of the men. She had not drawn her sword. Though it was so long its scabbard was fixed to her shoulder instead of her hip Her hair was the color of wheat, braided on either side of her head in the fashion of mounted archers; and he could see amulets glinting among the braids as they hung to her shoulders. She had wide, flat features that might once have been handsome. Though her face was heavily scarred and her nose had been broken more than once. Her eyes were storm grey and terrible as they swept the room, and she had a generous mouth which wore a smile but no humor. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>No smile could cover the cruelty etched into every facet of her face</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He hated her instantly. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Those iron grey eyes settled on Castiel and he felt himself shudder. A moment later and she fixed her gaze on the Queen. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Your….majesty.” she said in a deep voice, sketching the Queen a sweeping bow that made it clear she was not accustomed to bowing. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Light see you Li-Illitur Warlord. You are welcome in my Palace.” The Queen said officiously. “You and your retinue.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“It is my honor to present my personal vizier.” Li-Illitur said raising her hand to the still hooded man to her left. Her accent was thick, and somewhat hard to understand. Castiel did not think he relished the language he would have to learn that produced an accent like </span> <span> <em>that</em> </span> <span>.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The man who removed his cloak looked very short standing next to the much taller Li-Illitur. He had a neat face that was neither handsome nor ugly, but his eyes spoke of intelligence and cunning. His hair was matted and clumped into thick braids which he had tied behind his head and left it to hang down his back. The color was difficult to discern. His eyebrows were brown, but he had caked some substance through it that made it stiff and lighter. He wore a trimmed beard around a slightly weak jaw, and his eyes and forehead were painted with thick, chalky blue paint. His naked torso too was painted with the same blue in places. He was not a well muscled man. And he had removed none of his body hair. His breeches were pieces of leather that had been roughly stitched together. And Castiel could see he wore a cloak covered in black feathers. The overall look was…startling. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“He is Corvus. </span> <span> <em>Crow</em> </span> <span> in your tongue.” Said Li-Illitur. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Crow?” asked the Queen.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“He is a member of….an Ancient Order among our people. They are the Guardians of our culture. Keepers of our history. They cast off their names when they ascend to the Order and choose a spirit totem as their new name.” Li-Illitur explained. “Forgiveness your majesty. He does not speak your tongue.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>Where he stood the man Corvus looked around the Great Hall. He did not look impressed. Rather he seemed to be amused by something. His eyes moved in lazy circles from place to place, from face to face; and throughout he wore that smile that hinted as some inner laughter. His gaze lingered on Castiel for longer than he would have liked. Though it was to be expected. Castiel </span> <span> <em>was</em> </span> <span> dressed in their clothes.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“And who is this?” the Queen asked. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“He is Illistur. I believe in your tongue you would name him….Priest. He follows the old way. Of healing smokes and herbs and….such things.” Li-Illitur said, and something in her voice made him doubt this man was the benevolent healer she was describing. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He gasped at what he saw. The man looked closer to a corpse than anything living. And as he looked around his eyes fell briefly on Castiel he was nearly thrown out of his seat. For the briefest moment Castiel’s vision flashed back to the horrors he had seen in his dreams. And in that instant he knew this Illistur for what he was. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Witch. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>There were more useless niceties exchanged. Castiel did not listen. It was little more than a performance put on for the other courtiers. The gong sounded, drawing Castiel back to the Hall. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“The celebrations begin at lowsun.” Said the Queen, and everyone in the hall cheered. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>Li-Illitur spoke next. “We will take our leave. We have preparations to make as well for the </span> <span> <em>gift</em> </span> <span> we have brought.” She said bowing from the neck. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“I look forward to receiving it.” the Queen said, and Castiel felt the urge to spit. The only thing </span> <span> <em>she</em> </span> <span> looked forward to was for this woman to take Castiel to the other end of the map and kill him.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The Queen left then, but Castiel could not. As part of his royal duties, he was tasked with accepting and blessing endless tributes for the Queen’s nameday. He would be here for three hours before he could leave. He groaned softly as he saw the spin of nobles and their slaves bearing all manner of bundles and parcels and Light only knew what else. Gabriel gave him an encouraging smile as he followed the rest of their siblings from the dais. Castiel smiled at him, then shuffled in his seat trying to get more comfortable.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>*     *     *</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>The sun was all but set by the time Castiel finally walked from the Great Hall and started back to his chambers. Three hours had never seemed so endless. He longed for a bath, and to change his clothes. But that would mean summoning the Mima again. And he didn’t think his nerves could take it. He could hear the cheering and excited applause from within the stands of the courtyard.  The celebrations had kicked off in earnest. And it seemed to Castiel that everywhere he looked there was something to look </span> <span> <em>at</em> </span> <span>.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Jugglers were juggling. And every alcove and corner seemed filled with musicians and dancers awaiting their turn to perform on the main stage. Pausing next to a window that looked out over the city, Castiel could see brightly colored lanterns and hear the noise of more frivolity. He was so grateful when he finally walked into his chambers that he almost stumbled over a slave as breached the door.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Light see you m’lord.” A small voice said behind him. Castiel turned to see Lu-Cas beaming up at him. Castiel smiled warmly. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“And you Lu-Cas. How are you?” Castiel asked. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Oh grand! Just grand!” the boy said.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Shouldn’t you be down enjoying the party?” Castiel asked.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Just brought you a tray m’lord. Goin now though! Me Master’s got us real good seats. Dead close to the floor. We’ll be able to see everything!” he chattered sounding excited. “And I managed to sneak m’self a cherry tart for when I get hungry!”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel chuckled. “I am thrilled for you.” He said honestly. Ah to be a child again where a cherry tart was all it took to bring happiness. He didn’t bother telling him that revealing to a Prince that he’d stolen food was not the soundest plan. Instead he chuckled again and waved him off. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Do you like wearin all that?” Lu-Cas asked scrunching up his pudgy face as he looked at Castiel’s costume. Castiel smiled.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Not today.” He admitted. This seemed to satisfy the boy, and he scampered off after that.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel lowered himself onto a couch and gratefully tucked into some of the morsels that had been sent up for him. There would be a feast later but he was ravenous now. He massaged his temples, chuckling to himself when he spotted the vacancy on his tray that had obviously been occupied by a cherry tart; shaking his head slightly.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He was still smiling when he heard the screaming.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Just a quick heads up so there's no confusion. </p><p>Crow = Crowley<br/>Illistur = Alastair</p><p>:)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0036"><h2>36. Godtouched</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey Guys! So I'm altering the core Supernatural canon lore for this chapter a little bit. As obviously I need Alastair to be a Necromancer. But in SPN canon, any consumption of human flesh would make you a Wendigo. Anyhoo! Enjoy and PLEASE check out some awesome art done by my friend at the end of the Chapter!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann shuddered awake. His head throbbed with pain and his mouth was dry as the Anvil. He could not remember the last time he had drunk water, and his stomach was a hollow pit of hunger beneath his ribs. The Witch had banished him to blackness with a heel to his head. Dee-Ann did not know how long he had slept. He was still tied to the same tent post. But with the fires still lit inside the tent he could not guess how much time had passed. His wrists were raw and paining behind him, and his legs cramped from being trapped in the same position for too long. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He forced his head to lift and his eyes to open. And instantly he saw him. The Witch. He was still in the tent. He was sitting with his back to Dee-Ann, but that did not mean anything. It was froth on Sadsa. He had seen the Witch move so swiftly it was as if he was in two places at once. And the Witch had read his thoughts. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>For the moment however, the Witch did not seem to pay him any attention. He was kneeling in front of </span> <span> <em>that</em> </span> <span> bowl again, his scarred and hideous face reflected back in each of the mirrors facing him. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>In the reflection, Dee-Ann could see that his lips were working. He was chanting something Dee-Ann could not hear and his body was rocking as if the Witch was about to retch up his food. Dee-Ann looked up at the hanging birds, half expecting to see them flapping and screeching again. But they did not. Their dead wings hung limp and their mouths hung open; those terrible dead stitched closed eyes did not open. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Stifling a grunt, Dee-Ann began working his wrists in earnest. He needed to leave this place! He needed to escape! He needed to find that Princess and warn her! They were going to be attacked! </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He had to find Castiel!</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>The Witch ceased in his muttering and rocking foul braids and beads still clacking when suddenly, he </span> <span> <em>froze</em> </span> <span>. He did not simply stop moving, he froze so stiffly it was as if he was carved from stone. Dee-Ann gasped as he saw even his braids were suspended in mid air and his stinking robes did not fall.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann felt his skin erupt in goose flesh and his breath froze in his lungs, stuttering from his nose and mouth in thin blades of vapor. Looking around the tent he saw a tiny layer of frost forming on the ground and on the dead feathers of the birds above him. As the temperature continued to drop impossibly fast, he saw a tiny verdigris of ice collect around the bowl of blood and along the edges of the mirrors.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>‘Aaaaiiiieeeee God!!!!! Save me from this place!’ he thought wildly, furiously working his agonized wrists to break through the scabs he could feel that had formed over his scraped and willing the blood to flow to ease his passing. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“</span> <span> <em>He stirs.</em> </span> <span>” Dee-Ann heard a voice say and he looked up at the Witch. But he was still frozen in front of the Blood Bowl .Though Dee-Ann could see the surface of the blood was swirling as if someone was stirring it with a stick. He looked around for a moment more before the voice spoke again.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“</span> <span> <em>This one has the mark of the Novaki God on him.</em> </span> <span>” Said the voice. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann realized to his horror that it was not the Witch speaking, but his reflection from the mirror. All the eyes of all the reflections turned to look at him. And what was even more shocking, they moved independently as if they were not a reflection of one person, but eight individual people. One of them pressed himself up against the surface of the mirror. Dee-Ann could see how his hands flattened and his breath made fog.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“</span> <span> <em>His flesh is unsullied.</em> </span> <span>” Said one reflection.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“</span> <span> <em>And his power is completely untapped.</em> </span> <span>” Said another.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“</span> <span> <em>A perfect specimen.</em> </span> <span>” Said two more at the same time.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“</span> <span> <em>One we have not tasted before!</em> </span> <span>” Dee-Ann could hear lust in these words.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“</span> <span> <em>We must study him!</em> </span> <span>” A reflection said from Dee-Ann’s left, and he realized the “speaker” could see him through the back of the mirror even if Dee-Ann could not see </span> <span> <em>it</em> </span> <span>.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“</span> <span> <em>Yes! We will eat his eyes and see all the things he has seen!</em> </span> <span>” said another voice.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“</span> <span> <em>We will eat his tongue and taste the words he has said!</em> </span> <span>” came another.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“</span> <span> <em>We will drink his blood!</em> </span> <span>” said a voice from a center mirror.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“</span> <span> <em>We will eat his flesh!</em> </span> <span>” another one screamed.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“</span> <span> <em>Take his power for our own!</em> </span> <span>”</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“</span> <span> <em>A worthy addition to the horde</em> </span> <span>!” </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>They were speaking too fast now. Dee-Ann could not determine who was speaking anymore. He felt his bindings loosen. Almost there! Just a little more!!!!!!</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“</span> <span> <b> <em>Take him now Illistur!!!</em> </b> </span> <span>”</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“</span> <span> <em>Cut him!</em> </span> <span>”</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“</span> <span> <em>Yes!!!!! Carve him into another animal!</em> </span> <span>”</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“</span> <span> <em>Yes! Cut him!</em> </span> <span>”</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“</span> <span> <b> <em>Cut him!</em> </b> </span> <span>”</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“</span> <span> <em>Take him apart!</em> </span> <span>”</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span> <em>“Cut him!</em> </span> <span>”</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“</span> <span> <em>Unmake him!</em> </span> <span>”</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“</span> <span> <em>Bring him to us!</em> </span> <span>”</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>Dee-Ann was distracted from his frantic scrambling to free himself by what followed. Moving with the same horrible, fluid grace of a spider spinning its web or a snake on the desert sands, Dee-Ann watched as the Witch unfroze, and leaning forward, plunged his right hand into the bowl of blood; then raise his dripping gore covered hand and reach </span> <span> <em>into</em> </span> <span> the surface of the mirror. It rippled as if the mirror wasn’t made of metal, but some kind of liquid.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>When the witch pulled is arm back, he was holding a blade unlike any Dee-Ann had ever seen. It was made of some night black metal that seemed to drink the light hungrily as the Witch pulled its length out of the mirror. The handle of the blade was too long for the malnourished, skeletal hand of the Witch. But Dee-Ann was not looking at his hand. His eyes were fixed on the blade itself. It was double edged like a dagger, or a snake blade. But this blade had no curves. It tapered in that same unrelieved black from the handle into a wickedly sharp point. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>It was at that moment that Dee-Ann felt his left hand slip free of the rope, and fighting frantically to get his feet under him, he formed his fingers into claws and launched himself like a sand cat on the Witch! He would scratch out his eyes! He would claw his face! He……..</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>But the Witch was too fast. Raising one taloned hand, Dee-Ann felt himself slam into an invisible wall of force. For a moment he hung suspended in mid-air, before the witch drew back his hand and Dee-Ann felt himself hurtle spine first into the tent post he’d been tied to. White hot pain exploded through his shoulders and back as his body was bent double the wrong way around the post; before he collapsed in a graceless tangle of limbs on the carpet. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>All he could do was heave. His air had been knocked out of him, and his chest screamed red fire as he tried to breath. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“He fights us even though he knows he cannot win.” The Witch said in that same unctuous voice. “We will kill him. He will be us and we will be he. He will join the horde and we will have his power.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>Every part of Dee-Ann’s body screamed to get away. He snarled incoherently as the Witch brought the blade down. Instead of plunging it into his heart as he had expected, the blade kissed him on his left shoulder. He strangled out his pain. It was not a long cut. But it </span> <span> <em>hurt</em> </span> <span>. His skin screamed as it parted and the blood welled. The blade was somehow icy cold and boiling hot at the same time. And Dee-Ann’s entire body convulsed with the sheer absolute </span> <span> <em>wrongness </em> </span> <span>of having that thing touching him. Even more because he had been absolutely powerless to stop the Witch from cutting him.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He watched as the Witch lifted the blade to his lips, holding it there to let one single, fat drop of Dee-Ann’s red blood fall onto his outstretched tongue. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The Witch drew his tongue back into his mouth and seemed to savor the taste, even as he frowned again. “We can taste his God but we do not see him. We wonder where is his God now?” the Witch said mockingly.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“We will carve the foulness of the Novakari God out of his flesh.” The Witch said in a voice that was little more than whisper, his expression twisting into a sneer. “He will one of us.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The feeling that overtook Dee-Ann was like an old friend. It settled around his shoulders and lapped at his aching muscles.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>This was the helplessness and anger he had felt every time the Woman had beat him the Village. When she had chained him outside for the night. When he had not eaten for days. This was the bitter, directionless anger he had felt when Maeghara had named him slave. When the bitch Guard had stolen his amulet. And the bitch Chaala had betrayed him.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He knew it well. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>And something deep within twisted in his gut. Something he recognized on instinct. Deeper than blood and bone. Even in the face of the blackness of death. Beyond joy, or despair; darkness and light. Undiluted and pure. Base nature stirred in his blood. Birth and death. Fucking and surrender. Predator and Prey.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>It was desire. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Need. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Need to eat. Need to breathe. Need to fuck. Need to see him again! Need to escape! Need to fight! Need to breath! Need to be free! Need to look into blue eyes! Need the fight!</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>Need to </span> <span> <b> <em>live</em> </b> </span> <span>!</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He would not die here. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>This Witch would not kill him.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>He had said so many times since leaving that Village in the Savage East. But as he lay there, bleeding and paining; looking up at the blade this Witch meant to kill him with……Dee-Ann </span> <span> <em>believed</em> </span> <span> it for the first time. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He was not that nameless He-brat any, more. Nor was he the Slave Maeghara would have made of him. He was not a killer of chickens for the woman Bara-Bhur. Nor was he some nameless Peasant that Princess could claim. They mocked the God when they had mistreated him. When they had betrayed him. They spat in its eye. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He would show them how wrong they were.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He was Dee-Ann. Precious. Beautiful. Chosen of the God. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>He saw his skin turning white and blue as all redness drained from it. His blood turned to ice, freezing his veins as a </span> <span> <em>power</em> </span> <span> such as he had never felt shuddered through his flesh like molten metal. It rattled off his bones like liquid lightning and made his head swim. Behind his closed eyes his vision flashed white-hot, burning away the darkness. He felt his mind swoon. He had never felt anything like this before. He felt his blood sizzle and his hair stood on end the way it did before a storm. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Time stretched around him the way it had done only once before………..</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>………the night he had first touched Castiel.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He felt certain he could reach for the blade. Take it from the Witch and slit his throat.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>‘Shall I slit his throat God?’ Dee-Ann thought. ‘Shall I kill him like a goat for mocking your greatness?’</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>An answer came. Not in words but as a feeling. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span> <em>No</em> </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>And around his neck, his Scorpion amulet trembled. It was a carved, stone thing; yet it felt alive. He wrenched his eyes from the Witch and his blade, feasting his eyes instead on the black stone of his amulet. Guided by impulse, and the God’s silent voice, Dee-Ann rolled his shoulders more toward the Witch where he was kneeling beside him. The God was in his stone Scorpion. Let the Scorpion be its instrument.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>The leather thong threaded through the stone Scorpion amulet swung toward the Witch and….</span> <span> <em>snapped</em> </span> <span>! And the Scorpion arched through the air as if guided by some unseen hand. It landed on the Witch’s chest, right over his heart.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He waited. Barely breathing.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Was it the lamp light? Or did the Scorpion ripple? He could hear his heart beating! Drumming for the God! </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>The Witch clawed at the Scorpion but his taloned fingers passed right through. And then something </span> <span> <b> <em>unbelievable</em> </b> </span> <span>!</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>The Scorpion’s stinger </span> <span> <em>struck</em> </span> <span>! It stabbed right in the flesh of the Witch!</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The Witch’s eyes widened and he screamed! A horrible echoing wailing as if many voices were all screaming at once! He managed to grip the amulet this time and wrenched it from his flesh, but the damage was done! Dee-Ann watched as the skin of his chest frothed and bubbled, blistering as if he was being eaten by acid. The wound that was swiftly forming was the shape of a scorpion!</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>Dee-Ann lay watching him. “You stupid stupid Witch! I belong to the God! You cannot touch me! I am its Slave! You belong to demons! You are meat with maggots in it! You are a horse with a broken leg!” he screamed triumphantly. But his voice sounded strange to his ears. Deeper and </span> <span> <em>more</em> </span> <span>. There was something in his voice he did not recognize.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>The birds flapped and screamed overhead and Dee-Ann’s attention was drawn back to the Witch, who had whirled and gripped the bowl of blood between his hands; lifting it from its place on the low table and pouring it over his head before dropping it with a metallic clamor. The red/black blood flowed and dripped thickly over him and the frothing and blistering of his flesh seemed to subside. The Witch, still screaming and drenched in blood, uttered curses in a language Dee-Ann did not know before whirling in a great arc of rotted robes and spilling blood to run </span> <span> <b>through</b> </span> <span> one of the mirrors. It did not stop him. He merely vanished into the surface of the mirror as if it was a door. As soon as the Witch had passed through however, the surface of all the mirrors in the circle shattered, spraying shards of glass in all directions.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>The blade – which the Witch had pulled from the mirror – had stabbed into the ground in front of Dee-Ann’s face. But as soon as the Witch had passed through the mirror and they had shattered he watch as – with a breath of air – it dissolved into nothingness. A bit of black sand on the earth. The feeling of </span> <span> <em>power</em> </span> <span> that had saturated him suddenly left him, and he nearly collapsed. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He was exhausted. And his body had had no fuel in a very long time. He was bleeding in several places and his shoulder – more than any other wound – was paining horribly. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He was tempted to seek out food. To find some safe, unseen place where he could sleep and recover. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>But he could not. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>The God had banished the demons from </span> <span> <em>this</em> </span> <span> tent. But there were many others. And they had only one dark purpose.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Night was falling. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>And there would be blood. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He could not let it be Castiel’s.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p>*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*</p><p> </p><p>Just to give you guys an idea of the kind of vibe I'm trying to create with Li-Illitur and their ilk. These are reference images from other films. But they're what I'm looking at for inspiration. </p><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Very exciting! I reached out to a friend of mine and she knocked together this quick rendering of Dee-Ann! His eyes aren't quite green enough, but in fairness she only read the chapter. She hasn't watched the show.</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    
  </strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0037"><h2>37. The Calm......</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>SORRY! SORRY! SORRY! SORRY!</p><p>I know this took forever! I'm so sorry. Just been a really hectic time personally. Nothing bad necessarily. Just haven't had a moment to breathe!</p><p>I know it's a short little chapter. But hopefully it'll tide us over!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann found his amulet on the blood stained floor of the tent, wiping it clean with his fingers before closing his fist around it. He did not know what was waiting for him outside of this tent and he wanted the God’s power close. He felt hot, thick blood running down his shoulder from the cut the Witch had made. He had cut right into the meat of his shoulder. Every time Dee-Ann moved his arm, the mouth of the wound opened and closed as if it was screaming at him.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>His legs were still sluggish and his body ached as he stumbled to the flap of the tent, fumbling at the laces awkwardly with his blood stained fingers and still holding the amulet in his right hand. His everything hurt. He allowed himself a few breaths to steel himself before flipping it back. He had lost a lot of blood. He was tired. He was hungry and thirsty. And he was all alone. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The God had saved him once already. To ask for more than that was a sin. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Then I am a sinner God. I beg you. Do not abandon your slave now.” He said aloud as if the God were standing in front of him. “Give me the strength to survive this. Guide my hand. Help me find him. And I will dedicate all my life to your glory.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>His amulet did not ripple. It did not twitch. And no answer came to his mind. But it did not matter. He could not stay in this tent. He had hurt that Witch. But he did not think he had killed him. The Witch could return. He had to go. He had to find a way to warn someone. He had to find…… </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>‘The God will hide me. It will hide me in its Eye the way it did when I escaped the Villa in Et-Banotaj.’ He told himself.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He regretted the blade which had dissolved. It had been an evil thing, steeped in demons and sin. But even an unholy blade was better than none at all. Enough of this now! He chided himself. He flipped back the lip of the tent and stepped out. He did not know what he had been expecting to find. A fist of women standing at the ready with their scimitars aimed at him? The hawk nosed woman come to see what had become of the Witch? </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He had not expected celebrations. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Everywhere he turned there was music. There was laughing and the sound of many women talking over one another. There dancers flipping and cart wheeling through the air in preparation for their performances. Musicians plucked at their instruments and children screamed happily as they ran underfoot. The sun was not yet fully down. There was </span>
  <span>
    <em>still </em>
  </span>
  <span>time. He clutched his amulet in front of his chest, prowling slowly away from the tent. From the outside, it looked no different than any of the other countless tents in the Camp. Perhaps a bit darker because it was leather instead of cloth, but there was no hint of the wickedness it held. It did not take long for Dee-Ann to determine that the God smiled on him. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Groups of women passed him. They did not see him. They looked through him. He could feel the God’s presence, thrumming like heated blood through his veins. Its mystery cloaked him. Closing every eye to him and his silent footfalls on the hard packed earth.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He had no plan. He had only a vague idea of where he was. As he walked by a cook fire left momentarily unattended he pulled a chunk of goat meat off its skewer and made off with it. The spiced meat was like heaven on his tongue as he tore into it with his fingers and stuffed it into his mouth. The juices flowed over his chin and onto his ruined tunic. He did not care. He thanked the God silently as – too soon – he swallowed the last mouthful of meat. His body ached for more. But he knew he would have to wait. It was the first food he’d had in only the God knew how long. If he ate too much, he would become sick. And he needed all his wits about him. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Using Castiel’s Tower as a reference, he established that he was close to the familiar part of the Camp now. Close to the woman Bara-Bhur’s caravan. He did not think of it as </span>
  <span>
    <em>their</em>
  </span>
  <span> Caravan anymore. She had betrayed him. Her bitch daughter had betrayed him. All women had betrayal in their hearts. Only a fool would give his trust to a woman. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann spat on the ground. He had been a fool in the past. He would never be a fool again. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Still, he was covered in blood. His body stank. He was filthy. And his clothes were ruined. He would never get anywhere </span>
  <span>
    <em>near</em>
  </span>
  <span> Castiel or that Princess in his current state. And no matter how much he hated them, and would gladly kill both mother and daughter; he didn’t know anyone else in the camp. He did not know </span>
  <span>
    <em>anyone</em>
  </span>
  <span> in the entire world except…..</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Which meant there was only one place he could go. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He approached the woman Bara-Bhur’s tent warily. He did not see anyone. But that did not matter. He looked around for anything he might use as a weapon, but there was nothing. So curling his fingers into fists, he pulled back the lip of the tent he had shared with the bitch Chaala and leapt in; ready to strike. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>It was empty. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Feeling relief wash over him in waves, he relaxed his hold on his amulet. And like a whisper of wind over his skin, he felt the God’s veil which had hidden him from sight; evaporate as well. Moving quickly, he opened the trunks which held the bitch Chaala’s clothes and availed himself of leather trousers, a fresh tunic, a pair of thick gloves, and her riding cloak. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Stripping off his own clothes, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He was covered in old and new blood. His shoulder was still weeping freely. He had hoped he could merely wash himself in a basin, but he could see now he could not. Bundling his stolen clothes under his arm, he ran as fast as he could to the bathhouse tent. He did not bother with lighting logs to the heat the water, instead plunging into the cold water. All his wounds screamed as he smeared soap over them, and continued screaming as he scrubbed them harshly. He gritted his teeth. It </span>
  <span>
    <em>hurt</em>
  </span>
  <span>. But he knew from the Village that wounds left too long unscrubbed were an invitation for demons. His shoulder was by far the worst of his wounds but he did not care. It was pain. Dee-Ann knew pain. He did not try to be gentle. Rather he scrubbed harder. He did not care for comfort now. It was nothing before the God. Nothing compared to what that Witch did to the he-brat slave. What he would have done to </span>
  <span>
    <em>him</em>
  </span>
  <span> if the God had not seen him. Nothing compared to what that hawk faced woman would do to……..</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Leaving the bath, Dee-Ann worked his legs into the trousers quickly. They were stiff with newness, and – being made for a woman – pulled too tight over his cock and stones. He did not put on the tunic yet. He needed to find something he could use for bandages on his wounds before he put it on else the blood would ruin it. On his way back to the tent of the bitch Chaala he stopped off in the Cook’s tent.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>A he-brat slave looked up from where he was peeling potatoes. Dee-Ann barked an order at him to bring a plate of food and clean rags to the bitch Chaala’s tent. The he-brat jumped to obey. It seemed none of the troupe were any the wiser to what had transpired earlier that day. Dee-Ann smiled. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>‘Aaaaaiiiiiieeeeeee!!!! The God sees me! It protects me!’ he thought as he picked up a long, sharp knife. He knew it was one of the sharpest knives in the Cook’s tent. It was used only when one of the horses or camels had to be slaughtered. The blade was too long and heavy to be used on chickens or goats. It would serve him nicely. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Knife in hand, he returned to the bitch Chaala’s tent. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He paused. There was someone moving inside. He crept forward like a sand cat, moving around to the side of the tent. He peered inside and saw the unmistakable silhouette of the bitch Chaala. She was moving erratically, clanking bottles and pulling things from trunks. She did not seem to care for the noise she was making. She was distracted. Dee-Ann smiled. She would not hear him. Readying himself with a breath, he took hold of the flap of the tent where it was flimsily secured next to him; and </span>
  <span>
    <em>leapt</em>
  </span>
  <span> inside. He pulled the tent flap closed behind him. It had the desired effect. In the sudden darkness, the bitch Chaala was disoriented; turning like a fool right into Dee-Ann’s reach. He snarled at her, showing her his teeth as he swung the blade in a neat arc. Her eyes widened and she gasped; diving blindly into the space between her bed and her desk. Dee-Ann’s braid sliced off a handful of her godbraids. But she had evaded the worst of the blow. He pulled back his knife, determined to strike again. She made a sound like a strangled chicken, scrabbling to her feet and putting up her hands.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“De….Dee-Ann?!” she gasped.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Tcha! Dee-Ann snarled, swinging the blade at her head with the full strength of his back. She screamed again, throwing her entire body onto the bed and making as if she wanted to dash off the other side and out the back of the tent. Dee-Ann smiled cruelly. Those lacings were done up tight. He had tied them himself the night before. She tugged at them frantically for a moment, before turning to look at him with a wild expression. He gripped his knife with both hands and took two steps toward her so he could swing again. She gritted her teeth, grabbing at his hands and catching one injured wrist between her fingers. Dee-Ann winced with pain. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Please! D-Don’t kill me! I…..I didn’t mean to harm you!” she wailed. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Ha!” Dee-Ann yelled twisting his arms to try and free the blade. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Stop it!” she said through gritted teeth, making use of her superior strength to pull powerfully on the knife and make as if to prize it out of his grip. He would sooner die than let her have it. He lunged forward head first, his forehead bashing directly into her nose. He heard a satisfying crack. She yelped like a goat as the sudden pain, her grip slackening enough for him to wrench his hands free. Blood was streaming down her face, and Dee-Ann could see the agony and terror in her eyes. He ate it like honey. He would dine on more. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>She kicked him hard on his shin and he staggered, feeling fresh pain blossom through his right leg. Then feeling what must have been an elbow connect with his chin, he felt her grab the knife by the hilt and twist it out of his hands. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>God! No!!!</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He fell to the ground, but he broke his fall with his hands, pushing himself onto his back to look at her. She was standing over him, the knife in her hands. Its wickedly sharp point was hovering only inches from his face. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Stop.” She barked. “Dee-Ann!!!!! </span>
  <span>
    <b>Stop</b>
  </span>
  <span>!” she screamed when he made to keep fighting. His breath came hard through gritted teeth. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I don’t want to hurt you.” She said, nodding quickly at the look of commingled disbelief and outrage he felt twist his features. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Where would I have gotten that impression?!” Dee-Ann snarled back. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I’m sorry!” the bitch said. “I had no choice.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Fresh anger welled up in him and Dee-Ann tensed to lunge, but she was too fast.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Ah ah!” she said sharply. “I don’t want to hurt you. But if you don’t stop struggling right now you will leave me no choice.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>What a stupid woman. “You bleat at me about choices as if you did not hand me over to be killed by that Witch!” he spat at her. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“You were going to expose my Mother to the Guards. To that Novakari Princess who’s always sniffing around your cock. I couldn’t let that happen.” The bitch said flatly. She was swaying on her feet. She was not used to fighting. Dee-Ann knew he had merely to wait for his moment. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“What did the Novakari ever do to you that you should be so ruthless about murdering them?” Dee-Ann asked scrunching his face in confusion. The bitch Chaala looked confused too. She shook her head. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I don’t give a thimbleful of steaming pig shit about the Novakari or their fate!” she said emphatically. “Women in black armor approached my Mother months ago, offering her and every other Caravan owner bound for the Capital coin to transport their soldiers and weapons into the city in secret. My mother accepted without a thought. She didn’t even ask me.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“You had plenty of time to tell me. Plenty of time to argue with her. To report her wickedness. Instead you stayed silent. You are no better than her!” Dee-Ann said still scowling at her. Aaaaiiiiieeeeeeee!!!!! How he wanted to peel back the skin of her face. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I know I’m not. I don’t care. As soon as I learned of these plots I </span>
  <span>
    <em>knew</em>
  </span>
  <span>…….I knew I’d never get a chance like this again….” The bitch said breathlessly. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“What </span>
  <span>
    <b>chance</b>
  </span>
  <span>?” Dee-Ann asked. In answer, the bitch Chaala looked over her shoulder. His eyes followed her gaze. There were several saddle bags on the bed, and bits of clothing and other trinkets strewn around. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“You’re leaving.” Dee-Ann said. It was not a question. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I am my Mother’s only remaining daughter. She’ll never let me leave to live a life of my own choosing.” The bitch affirmed. “When the fighting starts I’m going to flee. I have a peddler with horses waiting at the Palace gate. There’s enough space for two…..” she said making a show of dropping the blade she was holding out to him. “Come with me.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Her voice was pleading. But Dee-Ann was not fooled. “So you can betray me again at the first turn?” </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Light blind me.” The bitch said. “Is that what it will take? For you to hear me say it? Alright. I betrayed you. Not because I wanted to. Because I had to. I chose myself over you. I will always choose to save myself.” She shook her bright red godbraids off her shoulders, stepping back from him a little further. “I mean it Dee-Ann. Come with me. I will swear any oath you want. I </span>
  <span>
    <b>will not</b>
  </span>
  <span> betray you again. There’s nothing you can do here now. The women behind this plot are cunning. They have been planning this for years. Our only chance is to get out of here.” </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Her voice was almost pleading.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“We can look out for one another. Just you and me. </span>
  <span>
    <em>Somewhere</em>
  </span>
  <span> in this world there must be a place for people like me. Like </span>
  <span>
    <b>us</b>
  </span>
  <span>…..” she trailed off, never looking away from his eyes. “Where we can be happy. We can find it together.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann did not speak immediately. He did not like the meaning behind her words when she had said </span>
  <span>
    <em>us</em>
  </span>
  <span>. But that did not matter now. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“And all these people you lead to their deaths like goats?” Dee-Ann asked sitting up straighter. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Better they die than I. I won’t weep for them.” The bitch said. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Like you wouldn’t have wept for me.” Dee-Ann said pouring every ounce of his hatred into his voice. She did not speak. She merely shrugged, though he noticed her grip tightening on the handle of the blade. He raised a hand to show he would not attack again. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Help me bandage my wounds. Leave me that blade. I will not try to stop you from running.” He said. “But I cannot join you.” </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Then you are not nearly as clever as I would have thought. Not even by half.” The bitch said. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann pushed himself to his feet. The Bitch made a big show of setting down the blade. It was too far for Dee-Ann to subtly reach, but he was not afraid of her anymore. She picked up an overturned chair and motioned for him to sit down. He did. She removed a salve from one of her desk drawers and began slathering it over his wrists.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Just what is it you think you’re going to do?” the bitch asked meeting his eyes in the mirror.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I have to find Castiel.” Dee-Ann said flatly.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Your Prince? He is already dead. He may still draw breath for the moment, but nothing will stop what is going to happen.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“You don’t know that.” Dee-Ann said. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“But I do. There are thousands of hidden soldiers, armed to the teeth. And they’ve had the time to study detailed maps of the Palace. There will be nowhere to hide. The Novaki guards don’t suspect a thing. They have been drinking and feasting for hours. They are no match for the Westerners. I have seen firsthand what they do to beautiful men in a Siege.” She said, her voice turning sad. “Believe me. You don’t want to remember him thusly. They’re going to beat him. They’re going to rape him. And then finally, when they’ve had their sport; they’re going to kill him.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“That is not his fate. No one who burns so brightly in the God’s eye is destined for such a fate.” Dee-Ann said harshly. “The God sees me. It saw me to this city. It saw me to him. It will guide me.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Then you’ll both die horribly.” The bitch said cruelly. The cook slave arrived then with the tray of food and the rags Dee-Ann had asked for. The bitch took them and set them down. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“This is deep. You’ll need to find a healer.” She said as she wrapped a long strip of fabric around his shoulder wound. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Later.” Dee-Ann said. Then another thought occurred to him. A kernel of knowledge like corn he remembered her dropping. “What map?”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Hmm?” she asked. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“You said they have detailed maps of the Palace?” Dee-Ann repeated.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Yes. Here.” The bitch said strolling over to a basket set off the side and retrieving a rolled up bit of parchment. Dee-Ann took it from her and unfurled it on the bed. It was a drawing unlike Dee-Ann had ever seen. It reminded him of butchering a whole carcass. Seeing legs and rump become smaller portions of edible meat. This map was the same. Only the carcass was the Palace. There were broad red and blue and green lines drawn all over. And here and there were symbols and dots with annotations like: ‘Store Cupboard’ or ‘Linen Closet’. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Don’t know where they could possibly have gotten them. But you see </span>
  <span>
    <em>here</em>
  </span>
  <span>….” She said indicating a blue line. “That’s a Slave Passage. The green are the guards patrolling routes. And the red are the main passages.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Where are we?” Dee-Ann asked, leaning closer to the point on the map the bitch pointed to. His mind worked to match the drawing to the actual place surrounding them. Using the point where they were as a reference, he identified Castiel’s tower.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>From somewhere outside the tent, there was the sound of thousands of voices cheering and applauding. Both of them turned to look.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“It’s starting.” The bitch said. “Last chance Dee-Ann.” She said over her shoulder. “Will you……”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>She never finished her sentence. In the time she had looked over her shoulder, he had taken up the blade.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“You betrayed me. You lied to me. You were willing to let me die.” He said. She trembled. “But I know what it is to want something so badly you would do anything for it.” he continued, lowering the blade. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>She let out a shuddering breath of such pure relief she actually crumbled to the floor. Dee-Ann paused next to her, blade and rolled up parchment in hand.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“If I see you again, I will kill you.” Dee-Ann said simply. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>And with that he walked out of the tent.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>I know! I know! Short chapter! But I had to lay some groundwork and I figured better a taste than nothing at all! You guys should know there’s a version of this on my laptop where Dean kills Charlie right before he leaves.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>No more filler. Next chapter we are IN IT full on promise. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0038"><h2>38. ....precedes the Storm</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry for the long wait!</p><p>Potential trigger warning for attempted Non-Con in one scene. I tried hard not to get too graphic again.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel pushed open the heavy doors and stepped out into the hallway. It was deserted. That was strange. Where were his guards? He walked briskly in the direction of the stairs. He could hear a flurry of activity as he got closer. At first he tried to convince himself that it was merely some rabble rousing that had gotten out of control. But as soon as he rounded the first landing he knew it was not.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>These were not the screams of people who were celebrating. These were the screams of raw agony and pure unadulterated terror.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Rushing to the nearest window overlooking the courtyard, Castiel gasped at what he saw. What had just mere minutes before been the setting for celebration and all manner of merriment had been replaced by what could only be described as….a battlefield. He saw knots of Palace Guards engaged in battle with some unknown soldiers. He could not make out anything distinct about them from this distance. But somehow, he knew. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>On some deep, instinctual level that he could not explain. He knew. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>This was his dreams made flesh. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The thing he had been fearing all along. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Even from this distance, he could see the meticulous cobblestones and neatly kept lawns of grass splattered recklessly with pools of bright scarlet blood. For a moment, he found himself transfixed to the spot as he watched one of the black armored invaders skewer a retreating woman with a long spear. He gasped. The woman had been a courtier judging from her fine clothing. What was worse was that she had been running </span>
  <span>
    <em>away</em>
  </span>
  <span>. She had posed no danger. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>His attention was drawn sharply to the side when a male slave came running up the stairs. The man’s face was a mask of horror and almost cannoned into Castiel before catching himself and throwing himself to the side. Castiel bent to help him up.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Your majesty!!!!!” he screamed. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“What’s happened?” Castiel asked still too overwhelmed to make sense of anything. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“They are coming!” the man wailed. “They’re killing everyone!”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“With me!” Castiel barked, gathering up his skirts and cracking back up the stairs. The slave fell in place next to him and quickly overtook him as they ran back to Castiel’s chambers. As soon as they were inside, Castiel bolted the heavy oak doors behind them.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“God see me! God see me! God see me! God see me!” the panicked slave chanted, burying his face in his hands and collapsing against the wall. Castiel tried to reach for him but found his arm movement heavily impeded by the infernal Goat’s heads lashed to his shoulders. With a frustrated grunt, he tore at the leather straps but to no avail. They were leashed behind his back and he could not crane his arms around far enough to get to them. Picking up the knife from his tray, he worked it awkwardly until he finally managed to tear through one of the leather straps. The hideous thing fell to the floor with a metallic clamor and Castiel turned his attention back to the slave. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Now that he could take a better look at him he could see why the man was in a state. His robes were torn, and there was blood running over his face and down his neck from a gash above his temple. He was a plain faced man, not much older than Castiel if he had to wager a guess.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“You must calm yourself!” he ordered as the slave continued chattering and muttering prayers. “What is your name?”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“C-C-Colfer my lord.” The slave panted out. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Colfer. I’m so very pleased to make your acquaintance. Here.” Castiel said handing him his goblet of wine which he’d set down next to the door on his way out. “Drink this.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>It was a mark of how panicked Colfer must’ve been that he accepted the wine without any thought of the impropriety such an act would normally represent. He gulped the wine and coughed roughly. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Now please. You must tell what is happening outside.” Castiel urged. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“There was no warning. We was watching the performers. Next thing I heard the screams. They’d drawn swords. I thought it was part o’the show. Then they……they started killin em….” Colfer said. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Killing who?” Castiel asked fighting to keep his voice level. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Everyone m’lord! They was killing everyone! Hackin and slashin! Weren’t no reason for it……” Colfer said with wild eyes. “One of em threw a spear right at the Royal box. They was aimin for the Queen they were……”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Did she survive?” Castiel asked. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I think. She swung that sword of hers and cut that spear in two. And there was flashes of light. After that I ran! I was closer to the back.” Colfer offered fresh tears streaming down his face before he buried his face in his hands. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Who did this?” Castiel urged.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Women in black armor M’lord. Like that!” Colfer said around another gulp pointing at the goats heads Castiel had removed from his shoulders. Castiel felt ice race down his back.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Li-Illitur. The Westerners. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>A million questions raged through his mind. Li-Illitur would have brought a retinue of soldiers with her, but no more than fifty. And they would have been disarmed at the city gates. How had they managed to mobilize? Where were all the other soldiers coming from? And where had they gotten weapons?</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He allowed himself five icy breaths before he sprang into action. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Right. We’ve got to move.” He said pushing himself up. “We have to get out of here.” </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Colfer began to protest ardently, but Castiel raised his voice as he continued. “</span>
  <span>
    <b>Listen to me! </b>
  </span>
  <span>We have to get to the Keep! A siege protocol will have been put into effect by now, which means that all civilians and men and children will be herded to the Great Keep. We have at best half an hour before they barricade the doors! After that, we will trapped outside!”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Colfer shook his head powerfully. “We…..we can’t go out there! They’ll kill us! We’re safe here! We’ll lock the door! We’ll hide until the guards come for you!” </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“No one is coming! Listen to me! All the guards and soldiers are engaged in the fighting. And those that aren’t all have the same orders. To fall back to the Keep and hold the line there! The only people who will be coming up those stairs are the ones who mean to do us harm.” Castiel said. His voice was calm, controlled; but with each syllable he felt a rising fear clench like a fist around his heart. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“But the door!!!!!” Colfer strangled out around a cry. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“The lock on that door was designed to prevent a Body Servant from disturbing me while I was on the privy, or entertaining a lover. Not to keep out a Death Squad. They will breach it with ease. We </span>
  <span>
    <b>have</b>
  </span>
  <span> to go. Now.” </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Slowly, Castiel watched the words dawn on Colfer’s face. He could tell the man was terrified. But there was nothing for it. He seemed to quiver where he stood. Castiel let out a shuddering breath of his own, looking down at himself. Hiking up his skirts, he sat down on the nearest chair and began fervently clawing at the lacings holding the boots secure. But he abandoned the notion after a few moments. The thrice cursed body slave had tied some Gordian knot that was proving too much for Castiel’s trembling fingers. And try as he might, he could not reach the lacings at the back of his dress to undo them. A cursory glance at Colfer was a knife drawn over the throat of soliciting his help. He was not a body slave. Judging from his robes Castiel would’ve guessed a cleaner or perhaps a cook. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>There was nothing for it. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Reaching behind his neck, he fumbled and groped at the clasp securing his Father’s necklace to him. Finally managing to get it loose, Castiel almost set it down on his dressing table, then though better of it; bundling it into a shining ball and wadding it up in a silk handkerchief, quickly tucking the whole lot into his pocket. Gripping the knife, Castiel hiked up his skirts and feverishly worked his hands length by length along the hem until he came to the side seam of the dress. Working the tip of the blade in between the meticulous stitches, he drew the knife through the hem with a stuttering sound. Now able to take two handfuls of the slippery fabric, the silence of the chamber was cut by the sound of a great tearing as Castiel struggled to rip the side of the dress all the way up to his mid thigh. Colfer looked at him as if he was a mad man but remained silent as Castiel clawed at the ridiculous ornaments on top of his head and tore them free of his hair. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>It was as “ready” as he was going to get. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Here.” Castiel said, handing Colfer a gilded poker from the fireplace. The slave took it as if he had never seen such an object before. Castiel grabbed a hooked poker for himself as well, tucking the blade into the top of his boot hilt first. “We’ll take the stairs together. But when we get to the bottom…..” Castiel trailed off, having to collect himself before continuing. “….I’ll need </span>
  <span>
    <b>you</b>
  </span>
  <span> to get to the Keep as fast as you possibly can. Use the slave passages and any shortcuts you may know. Tell them I am alive and am trying to get to them.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“You wish me to leave you?” Colfer asked looking stricken.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“</span>
  <span>
    <b>I</b>
  </span>
  <span> am a member of the Blood. I have a target on my back which you do not. People are coming either to capture me, or to kill me. And the simple fact is I will </span>
  <span>
    <em>not</em>
  </span>
  <span>, in this gown…outrun them.” Castiel said. He could hear the tremble in his own voice. But he soldiered on. “My only chance is to surrender myself as a political prisoner, or for the Guards in the Keep to mount some kind of a rescue. And for that, I need </span>
  <span>
    <b>you</b>
  </span>
  <span>. Do you understand me? We have one advantage over their invaders. We know the Palace.” </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Majesty.” Colfer said bobbing on the spot as if he had been given an order. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>They crept from the room. Castiel looked around violently, but for the moment did not see anyone. And nodding at the petrified Colfer – now brandishing the poker as if it was a great sword – they made their way down the passage that led to the stairs. Castiel moved closest to the wall, kicking at the hem of the skirt every so often. The gown had not been designed for the slit he had created, but at the very least he could move more freely now. For no particular reason, he crouched a little lower to the ground as he walked, being careful to support his weight on the ball of his foot to avoid the God cursed heels from announcing his progress on the stone floor. This tip toeing motion was silent, but slowed them down more than he would have liked, and it made his braid slap annoying against the small of his back with every step. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Finally, they reached the lip of the stairs. Castiel could see flashes of light and catch a few snatches of distant voices coming from below, but for the moment he did not see anyone. With another nod, the two men began creeping down the stairs. They rounded the first landing; the sounds of the slaughter they were walking into growing ever louder. Castiel’s heart thundered in his chest, and he realized he was holding his breath. Forcing himself to calmness, and trying to keep his breathing soundless and steady, he looked back at Colfer before continuing down the stairs. The slave moved as his shadow, his face a mask of terror and alertness. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Remember what I told you.” Castiel whispered pointedly as they crested the second landing and made their way down the final stretch. He felt both ridiculous and more terrified than he ever had as he tightened his grip on his poker. He had never felt more foreign to his situation in his entire life. Next to him, the slave Colfer had taken to making little blubbering sounds under his breath as they walked. He could see the tears of pure terror and anguish streaming over the man’s face. They enraged him. He fought the urge to slap the man. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>This was a time for strength and resolve. For fighting. This was not the time to be a weak little man.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Raising his hand to stop them, Castiel peered around the corner at the bottom of the stairs. The sounds of fighting and screaming were close now. Too close. But he didn’t see anyone in their immediate vicinity. Looking at Colfer, he mouthed the word: “</span>
  <span>
    <em>Now!</em>
  </span>
  <span>” </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>And pushing at the slaves elbow, Colfer hared off ahead of him. Castiel shot him a mournful look as he watched the man’s retreat. He envied him for his much looser clothing, not to mention his shoes. But he had no time to contemplate that. Castiel gathered his skirts and looped them over his left elbow, holding the fireplace poker aloft in his right hand; and was off like a shot. Taking much larger steps and deeper breaths than he was accustomed to, he could hear the creaking of the camel bones in his stomacher protesting against the motion, but he ignored it. There were two full courtyards, not to mention a Barbican between him and the Keep.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>*     *     *</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He could not see Colfer anymore. Though the horrific sounds drew ever nearer as he ran along the wall, the huge courtyard opening up next to him. It was like nothing he had ever seen. Everywhere he looked, he could see women fighting. His ears ached with the screams. If he did not </span>
  <span>
    <em>know</em>
  </span>
  <span> this was the Palace he had lived in all his life, he would never have recognized it. The disarray. The despair. It hung in the air almost as thick as the acrid stench of battle. Dead bodies were strewn over the ground like kernels of corn sewn in a field. Castiel had to step over the body of a portly woman whose head had been all but hacked off with a broad axe. It was horrifying. Everywhere people running. People screaming. People dying. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>But in that chaos, Castiel had thus far managed to go unnoticed. Stepping over the body of a fallen Westerner, he suppressed a wretch at the smell spilling out of her torn body cavity. Her intestines gleamed bright pink against the backdrop of her ruined armor. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>After what felt like an eternity, Castiel was almost to the gatehouse separating the two courtyards. But his attention was drawn sharply to the side by the sound of two women coming right at him. A Palace guard and one of the invaders. Their arms were locked almost as if they were wrestling. But Castiel knew this was no friendly match. Both of them were covered in blood, and Castiel could see the hideous snarling expressions on their faces. The Palace Guard turned them and shoved the invader against the wall. But the other woman slammed her armored elbow down on the Guard’s wrist and backhanded her through the face. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Acting purely on instinct, Castiel drew back his poker and swung it down with all the strength of his back at the woman’s head, screaming loudly. The curved point of the hooked poker disappeared into her temple. The woman grunted in pain, but did not fall; instead grabbing hold of Castiel’s wrist and wrenching him forward. He screamed again. Salvation came in the form of two strong hands ripping him free. Castiel stumbled as he was tossed aside, losing his footing in the cursed heels of his boots. The Palace Guard was now swinging the poker, catching the invader in on the back of the neck before shoving the point – with a sickening squelch – into the back of her head. The black clad invader fell dead to the ground. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“My Lord?!” The guard said looking at Castiel and instantly helping him to his feet. “You cannot be here! It’s not safe!”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I’m trying to get to the Keep!” Castiel said desperately. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“With me my Lord. I’ll guard your flank.” The Guard said pushing Castiel behind her. A wave of gratitude fell over him as he grabbed his skirts and ran toward the Gate House.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“What is your name?” Castiel asked suddenly wanting to know. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Hearne if it please m’Lord.” She said from right behind him. Castiel did not know who was more impeded as they ran. Castiel by his gown or Hearne by her armor, though they seemed to move at a similar rate. “We thought we’d got all the Blood out of this area my Lord. We took precautions to stop them from getting to the Keep until all the men and children were safe!”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“What precautions?” Castiel asked bewildered. Though as he came nearer, he saw all too well. Dead bodies had been stacked like bags of grain in front of the wooden doors that would take them into the quadrangle beyond. Castiel gasped in horror. It was a grim sight. Made even more so by the idea that – if he were to gain access to the doors – Castiel would have to clamber over them. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>It was only as he drew nearer that he saw – hanging grimly off the wall from having been impaled by a spear through the chest – Colfer’s dead body at his right. Castiel’s covered his mouth with his hands unable to suppress a sob. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“It’s no good my Lord. The doors will have been barricaded from the other side. But the staircase should still be accessible” Hearne said looking around. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“The staircase?” Castiel asked confused. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“To the battlements my Lord. You can run along the length of the wall and down the other side. You might be able to miss the worst of the fighting.” Hearne said. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“But they could be up there?!” Castiel cried.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“It’s the only chance my Lord. And besides, in a siege our arches would’ve done everything to keep them out in the open.” Hearne said reassuringly. “Go now!” </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“You’re not coming?!” Castiel shrieked.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I’ll make sure you’re not followed!” Hearne shouted, bodily turning Castiel and driving him up the stone stairs to the top of the battlements. Castiel meant to protest further, but at that moment, Hearne’s throat opened as a sword blade came jabbing through. Castiel screamed as the Guard fell; revealing behind her a black clad woman. Whirling on the spot, Castiel raced up the stairs, hearing the clanking steps of the invader pursuing him. He screamed again. Hearne had taken the poker from him!</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He crested the top of the stairs and took one running step, before feeling a hand grab a hold of the end of his braid and give it a violent tug. Wincing in agony, Castiel felt himself yanked backwards. The woman slammed him against the wall, making his vision explode in a corona of stars. He slumped to the floor and she launched herself fully onto his body. One of her large hands held both of his, and with her free hand she ripped at the folds of his skirts hiking them up. Then her free hand was pawing at his body as it had never been touched before. With a crude insistent hunger, he felt the woman’s fingers. His chest. His neck. His stomach. His cock. Her mouth lurched closer and Castiel turned his head to the side. The woman’s pink ruddy skin at his cheek. She shifted, wedging her bulk between his legs. Her fingers tore the silk of his undergarments, blindly stabbing his delicate flesh and digging deeper, catching him with her ragged nails. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel gasped with pain. The woman chuckled and drew her wet tongue over his neck. Castiel arched his back to throw her off. She laughed harshly, her stinking breath forcing its way into his nose. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>She </span>
  <span>
    <em>laughed</em>
  </span>
  <span>!</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>And shifted her grip from around his wrists, to his throat. She was choking him! Her other hand was back between his legs, pushing them apart. In a moment of clarity, Castiel remembered that his leg – bent awkwardly at an angle against his chest – wore the boot that held his dinner knife. He desperately groped for it as the woman seemed to be undoing her own trousers. Castiel clawed at the hand around his throat, kicked with both feet and wormed his body in a writhing motion as he tried to reach the knife. He had never imagined he could fight like this. He had never imagined a possibility that he should ever need to. But even as black spots appeared in front of his vision, he snarled. She was about to thrust herself forward when Castiel managed to grab a hold of the knife; gripping it firmly between his fingers and drove it deep into the flesh of her cheek. The woman’s mouth opened with surprise, the hinges of her jaw twisting. Her face went crimson and she gasped almost comically. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>His fingers were still gripping the blade as he wrenched it free. This released a thick pulsing jet of blood that sprayed like a fountain across his body and onto the stone of the walls. She shuddered on top of him for a moment, before he felt her body slacken momentarily. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>It was all the time he was going to get. He felt the sacred spells inked into his skin light up with golden fire, even as the force of his will rocketed out of him. His hands were two glowing orbs of flame as he grabbed her head and released all his anger, his horror, his pain and anguish into her skull. The woman gave one final gargling stutter before her head exploded as her brains boiled inside her skull and burned to ash.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He realized he was screaming. The woman dropped with a thud next to him as he finally managed to shake her off, covering himself with the folds of his gown. He breathed hard as he pushed himself to his feet, blinking blood out of his eyes and covered in gore. He coughed powerfully, his throat burning and the back of his head throbbing with pain.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He allowed himself one shuddering sob, before steeling himself with a breath. He needed to be running. He did not know how much time he had lost. Only that it was time he did not have. And there would be more of them any moment now.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>*     *     *</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel was running as hard as he knew how. Pushing his body beyond any limit of reason. He barely noticed or cared where he was going any more. Just as long as it was away. Not here. Gone. Safe. But even as he feels his strength waning, his already tortured muscles screaming for reprieve from the relentless pace he’d been going at for what felt like forever, he knows safe is a dream. And he was awake. He’d managed to clear the battlement and make his way down into the central courtyard which flanked the Keep. The fighting had been worse here, judging by the bloodshed. But it seemed to have moved closer to the Keep and further from the perimeter walls. His feet ached in his heels as he crouched for a moment behind a statue to get his bearings. One wrong turn now and it would be his death. Reassured he was still going to the right way, Castiel raced into the nearest slave passage that would take him around the worst of the bloodshed.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He heard the thrum of his own blood roaring through his veins as he ran. Every fresh breath cleaved at his lungs like a jagged razor. But he knew he couldn’t afford to slow his desperate pace. He </span>
  <span>
    <b>had</b>
  </span>
  <span> to get to the Keep!!! He silently cast his eyes heavenward as he tore through the darkened, labyrinthine passages. It would’ve been hypocritical for him to mutter a prayer. But just this once, he pled silently with as much sincerity as he had left in him, that whatever unseen forces exist in this world, would somehow come to his aid.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>His teeth chattered as he ran. The hand still clutching the blade had gone numb. Between the swiftly cooling night air, his own fear and the weight of what had almost happened on top of the battlements; he could almost feel the cold seeping into her soul. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The Great Keep appeared in front of him like a huge hulking mountain. He felt a tear of pure relief sting its way out the corner of his eyes. There was a lot of fighting between him and the secret door that would allow him inside, but it would be much faster than trying to find his way through the slave back passages he barely knew. Tripping on something unseen beneath him in the dimly lit passage, he swore fluently as he scrambled back to his feet. It was only once he was standing that he saw what it was he had tripped over. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>It was Lu-Cas. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>His throat had been cut. The blood had stained his oyster robes bright red. And to his horror, Castiel realized he had tripped over Lu-Cas’ leg…..because they were still spread. Castiel forced his eyes away from where they had been hiked up and bunched between his legs. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>A cold, hollow feeling filled his chest as he kept going. There were more bodies as he went. All dead. And from the looks of them all the men had been ravaged either before or after the killing. It was only when he came to the stone antechamber that would take him up to the courtyard proper, that another….chilling thought occurred to him.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>This was a slave’s passage he was in. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>How had…..?</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“No!” he screamed, whipping up his skirts and running as fast as he could into the ante chamber and out into the open air. He was still forty feet from the door he had been trying to get to since leaving his chambers. But even from here he could see it. Black clad figures poured into the Keep like rats scurrying into a hole. And like a key turning in a lock, Castiel’s mind slotted all the piece into place.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>
    <em>“I owe you an apology Castiel.” Tran had said. “I have betrayed you.”</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel could not stop the tears now as he realized the full impact of what all this meant.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>From the corner of his eye he saw a black clad woman rushing towards him. And something deep inside Castiel…..</span>
  <span>
    <em>snapped</em>
  </span>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The heat and fire boiled off him in palpable waves, as the flames stretched beyond his tattoos to literally engulf his skin and light up his entire body standing there. They stretched up and out, rising to nearly three feet high; seeming to pulse in time with the frantic beating of his heart. They roiled and burned underneath him till the tips of his toes actually lifted off the ground.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>And just for a second, he was the finger of God standing there. The all conquering flames every Godspeaker had taught him all his life to fear, they were his now. His to wield. The literal manifestation of righteous fire and retribution made flesh! An avenging angel of a wrathful god, visiting its terrible punishment on all those who would dare do its children harm.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>His back stretched into a painful arc, his arms flung out to the side, ankles together as if he was nailed to an invisible cross…..before the flames…..</span>
  <span>
    <em>exploded!</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>*     *     *</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Pain. It was the first thought, like the last, that flashed through his mind. His ears were ringing and his vision blurred. His body was a prison of pain. Slowly. Painfully. Awareness started seeping in. He was on his back. He was wet. No. Damp. The air smelled of something sharp. Tangy and wrong. He wanted to gag; recognizing it for what it was. Fear. His fear. Mixed in with the feverish smell of his body. Sweat. His sweat.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>And something else. Something….</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He rolled onto his stomach and began pushing himself up. He was very confused. He could not remember exactly what had happened. His boot caught on something, and his head gave a jerk. He’d stepped on his own hair. It must have come loose. His gown was smoking. And the fabric looked singed. Swiping his arm over his head, he felt his hair collide with the back of his legs. When he brought his hand over, he saw that there was something clinging to his skin that was smearing it grey. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>In fact, he noticed; it was all around him. Powdery grey flakes like fetid snow. It was ash. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He’d……burned.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Then there were hands on his shoulders. And he realized someone was speaking to him. His first thought was to fight. But as he turned, the whole world was drawn into sharp focus by two bewildered, scared…..perfect…..green eyes.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Dee-Ann?”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0039"><h2>39. Aftermath</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi all.</p><p>Just a few warnings that there is more violence in this chapter. I tried to be as careful as possible, but I also need to tell the story. So I apologize in advance!</p><p>That said, hope y'all enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="normal">
  <span>The scene waiting for Dee-Ann outside the tent was vastly different from when he had entered it. He did not look for the bitch Chaala when he stepped out. What had been a peaceful and relatively abandoned camp not two fingers before, had erupted into a tableaux of chaos. His ears were split by too many screams, seeming to come at him from all directions. People were running past him. He did not think they had any idea where they were going. This was the blind, directionless scarper of those who knew that behind them waited only death. The air was thick with smoke. And somewhere in the distance Dee-Ann could see the orange glow of a fire.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Steeling himself with a breath, he left the tent and set off into a run. He had no idea where he would begin trying to find Castiel. But armed with his map, and his stolen blade; he put his faith in the God to guide him. He made sure to keep Castiel’s tower in his sight as he drew nearer to the edge of the camp. The screaming was not so loud here, but he knew very soon he would be in the thick of it. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He ran passed a dead body on the ground. And soon more of them followed. The sound of steel on steel, and steel splitting flesh filled his ears. Already the air was beginning to reek with the rotten smell of blood and entrails and shit. Dee-Ann breathed hard through his mouth and stayed the course. He had plotted out a crude course to the only staircase leading up to the tower where Castiel slept. Though as he drew nearer, he saw groups of warriors engaged in heavy fighting. Abruptly, a woman wearing Palace armor saw him, then glanced at the blade in his hand. He saw the exact moment she decided he was one of the invaders and Dee-Ann saw murder bloom in her eyes as she came charging in his direction. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“No! I am not……” he shouted his denial, but she was not listening. She had a short, thick spear in her hands and she was drawing it back for a throw. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>All thought left him as his body </span> <span> <em>responded</em> </span> <span>. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>For months he had been practicing his hotas every night. Until now he had stabbed only air. But this was different. This was </span> <span> <em>real</em> </span> <span>. He leapt through the air, his limbs moving like water into a hota called: </span> <span> <em>The sandcat</em> </span> <span>. It was meant to cover the maximum of distance between two opponents while surrendering none of the body’s lithe mobility. With his blade outstretched and swinging in a smooth arc, the woman realized too late what he was doing and awkwardly tried to shift her grip on her spear. It was pointless. Dee-Ann’s blade found purchase in her neck, where there was no armor to protect it. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>With a sickening squelch of blood and bone, Dee-Ann wrenched it free and swung again; this time stabbing the blade into her eye. She died without a sound. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>His wounded shoulder screamed as he fought to pull the blade free, sending a spray of blood that coated his chest and face. He spat the dead woman’s blood out of his mouth with a wretch and picked up her spear. It was a heavy thing, made for a woman’s strength. But he felt better having a weapon in both hands as he continued deeper into the fray. The expanse separating him from the stairs was much larger than he thought from the map. He almost tripped over a severed head laying on the grass, and all around him bodies had been opened to spill their fetid entrails and blood on the ground. As he scrambled back to his feet, his hands fell on three severed fingers, abandoned in the mud. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Thrice more he had to fight off attacks. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>By the end of the third, he was panting hard. His eyes were full of blood, his ears were full of screaming. His clothes were red. His hair was caked with blood. His arms were covered in gore all the way up to his shoulders. Wounds had been opened in his side where a spear had missed him. An arrow had struck him in his thigh. He snapped it off and kept fighting. None of these wounds were serious from what he could tell, but enough to make walking painful. A glancing knife thrust had cut his cheek. He felt the blood but not its pain. It was a small price to pay in return for his life. He forced it out of his mind. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Beneath his feet, the courtyard had been trod into a murky brown mud. And against all logic and reason, the fighting only grew more ferocious as the sun continued to set and the encroaching night closed like a fist around them. The gypsy camp was burning now. A column of fire roaring and spitting. Dee-Ann lost track of everything. He did not know how long he had been fighting. Nor did he have any idea how many enemies he had faced. Screaming in front of him. Screaming behind. Wet thuds of bodies hitting the dirt. Godsparks fleeing their flesh and up into the sky.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Thrust!.....................</span>
</p><p class="normal">
  <span> <b>BLOOD</b> </span>
</p><p class="normal">
  <span>Slash!...................................</span>
</p><p class="normal"><span>...................</span> <span> <b>BLOOD</b> </span></p><p class="normal">
  <span>Stab!................................................ </span>
</p><p class="normal"><span>……………………….</span> <span> <b>BLOOD</b> </span></p><p class="normal">
  <span>Scream!..........................................................</span>
</p><p class="normal"><span>……………………………………</span> <span> <b>BLOOD</b> </span></p><p class="normal"><span> <em>Thrust!</em> </span> <span>.........................................................................</span></p><p class="normal"><span>………………………………………………</span> <span> <b>BLOOD</b> </span></p><p class="normal"><span> <em>Slash!</em> </span> <span>.......................................................................................</span></p><p class="normal"><span>……………………………………………………………</span> <span> <b>BLOOD</b> </span></p><p class="normal"><span> <em>Stab!</em> </span> <span>.....................................................................................................</span></p><p class="normal"><span>…………………………………………………………………………</span> <span> <b>BLOOD</b> </span></p><p class="normal"><span> <em>Scream!</em> </span> <span>................................................................................................................. </span></p><p class="normal"><span>…………………………………………………………………………………….</span> <span> <b>BLOOD</b> </span></p><p class="normal"><span> <b>Thrust!</b> </span> <span>................................................................................................</span></p><p class="normal"><span>…………………………………………………………………........</span> <span> <b>BLOOD</b> </span></p><p class="normal"><span> <b>Slash!</b> </span> <span>...................................................................................</span></p><p class="normal"><span>……………………………………………………</span> <span> <b>BLOOD</b> </span></p><p class="normal"><span> <b>Stab!</b> </span> <span>.......................................................................</span></p><p class="normal"><span>………………………………..</span> <span> <b>BLOOD</b> </span></p><p class="normal"><span> <b>Scream!</b> </span> <span>....................................................</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Over and over again!</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann slouched against a pillar, taking advantage of his small frame to hide himself from sight. His limbs were lead. His muscles over reached and tearing. His breath was fire, his lungs burning in his chest. The blood from his opened body and from his enemies was slicking his body. If he had ever been more exhausted in his life he could not remember it. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He caught a glimpse of the flame haired Princess through the madness, painted in blood and wielding a broad axe with both hands on the far side of the battlefield. She looked demonstruck. She was weeping, laughing. Four arrows jutted from her breastplate and two from her arm. If those wounds pained her she did not show it. She was fighting like a mad thing, taking on three women in black armor at the same time. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann was so lost in watching the terrible beauty of her ferociousness, that he was caught almost completely off guard when a woman appeared around the pillar he was leaning against with a raised blade. Half her face had been cut away, peeled from the skull like the skin of a peach. As he raied his spear to skewer her like goat meat, her skull was shattered by a Novaki slingshot. Dee-Ann leapt over her body, and stabbed a warrior attacking the Palace guard who had loosed the shot. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Get out of here boy! This is no place for you!” the grateful warrior shouted. Dee-Ann nodded. He could naught but agree.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Then they were separated by a fresh wave of warriors, fighting to their brutal deaths. Dee-Ann dropped his spear. He could not support its weight any longer. But he held fast to the blade, pressing his now free hand to his blood soaked chest to feel the familiar bump of his Scorpion amulet against his chest. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Guide me God!” he strangled out as he ran. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He was running on stone now. The open door of the staircase not twenty paces ahead of him. With a feeling of profound relief he gripped the banister and ran as fast as he could up the stairs.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>It was almost his death.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>A woman wearing black armor was coming down the stairs. As soon as she detected his movement she swung her broadsword. Dee-Ann screamed and threw his body to the side. Her swing whispered through his hair, the blade connecting with the wall above his head hard enough to make sparks. His legs were carried awkwardly over his head as he fell a little down two steps. He panicked. Somehow he had lost grip of his sword! The woman looked ferocious as she drew her blade back and made to stab him in his chest. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann’s eyes widened. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He was exhausted. He was bleeding. He was sprawled on his back. And he had no weapon. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>‘Aaaaiiiieeee!!!! Why did you tell me I am precious God?’ he thought to himself as the light glinted off the blade.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He would die here.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He had failed.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>This woman was going to kill him.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span> <b> <em>No</em> </b> </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The voice spoke so loudly and so clearly – to Dee-Ann – it could as easily have been someone sitting right next to him. Aaaaaiiiiiieeeeeee!!!!!!! It was the God! He was sure of it! The God had seen him! It had spoken to him!</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>It happened all at once and yet somehow seemed to take an eternity. A </span> <span> <em>power</em> </span> <span> thrummed through Dee-Ann such as he had never felt before. His eyes burned and his body – so heavy a moment ago – felt light as a puff of smoke. He knew he was moving, but it felt like running in a dream. It was as if he was not in control of his limbs. As time continued to stretch thin around him, his hand that was not his hand reached up and grasped the blade the woman was aiming at his chest. It did not cut him. And in that moment, the blade was not made of forged steel. It was soft and plaint as silk. Dee-Ann watched in awe as his hand folded the blade into useless shape; even as his other hand closed over the woman’s face.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Blue-green light glowed through his fingers and Dee-Ann could feel it frothing against his skin.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The woman slumped dead to the ground. And to his astonishment, Dee-Ann could see the print of his own hand still marked on her skin. The skin was not burned as if by fire. It bore the glowing blue green mark he had seen the Godspeaker in Et-Banotaj smite the two drunk Traders with.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>Somehow…</span> <span> <em>he</em> </span> <span>…..had used that same power. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The God had spoken to him.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The God had protected him.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The God had controlled his body and lent him its power!</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He was Dee-Ann! Precious and beautiful in the God’s eye!</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>For a long moment, he stood staring down at his own fingers. Before a sharp pain at his chest pulled him out of his reverie. His scorpion amulet had bit into his skin. And as he reached for it, he realized it was </span> <span> <b>very</b> </span> <span> warm to the touch. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Sobbing for air, Dee-Ann considered his next move. This woman had been coming down the stairs. He knew without knowing how, that the tower above him was empty. Castiel was not there. The only other place that made any sense for him to have gone would be the Great Keep where they had first met.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>He unfolded the map which he had stowed in his pocket in his stone heavy arms. His vision swam a little, whether from the retreating presence of being filled with the God’s brutal power, or whether from his wounds he did not know. His heart grew heavy as he saw how far he had to go from here to the Keep. It had not seemed so far the other night. But that was when this was a Palace not a battlefield. Without meaning to, Dee-Ann traced the various routes marked out on the map and saw the one the bitch Chaala had plotted for herself. There was a soldier’s passage hidden within the boundary wall of the Palace. No doubt it was meant for patrolling or for the storing of food stuffs and goods. One of many such passages he had seen on other pages of the map. But more importantly, it led down to the street level. The door was not far. And despite himself, for one cruel moment, he considered abandoning Castiel to his fate. It was a shameful thought. But he was </span> <span> <em>so</em> </span> <span> tired. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>No sooner had he considered it than a feeling unlike anything he had ever experienced filled his chest. A thick, gaping emptiness so absolute it would swallow him whole. Against his chest, his Scorpion amulet turned icy cold. And a profound agony gripped him as if his very soul was burning. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>And somehow….Dee-Ann knew. If he did not save Castiel, the God would abandon him.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I understand.” Dee-Ann said aloud, speaking directly to the God. “I am your Slave.” </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>But he was not scared now. He would not die here today. He was in the God’s Eye. It would protect him. It was up to him to extend that protection to Castiel now. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>*     *     *</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann sucked air into his burning lungs, and forced his mind to ignore his body’s agony as he ran. He felt the God’s presence at his back. Like a cloak ready to be drawn over himself at any moment. It was a strange thing to think he could borrow such power from the God. He would have much to think about when all of this was over. But for the moment he did not draw on the God’s power. He had drawn on it in the tent when the Witch had cut him. And then again on the stairs to smite that woman.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Both times had left him exhausted. He could not risk that until he had found Castiel. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He had managed to avoid the worst of the fighting, moving as fast as he could and sticking close to the walls. He did not know how long it took him to the reach the Keep. Only that the sky was night black behind the red smoke of the distant fires when it finally came into view. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He scanned the battlefield carefully. There was no way to get to the Keep without passing over it. And the fighting had only gotten worse. He took five measured, slow breaths; preparing himself to reach for the God’s borrowed power and hide himself from sight. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Then it happened. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He saw him. Castiel was standing at the edge of a slave passage. Dee-Ann felt a wash of relief and……and….something he could not name pass through him.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel was here! He was alive!</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>It was only after a moment that Dee-Ann noticed the fact that he was glowing. Even from this distance, Dee-Ann could see the way his tattoos were lighting up the same way they had the night they met. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>He watched as Castiel’s ruined dress rippled and waved behind him, even as his hair wrenched it free of its confines and roiled and frothed in the unseen wind around his head. The air around him was soaked in death. And Dee-Ann could not believe his eyes as Castiel actually rose into the air like…and </span> <span> <em>angel</em> </span> <span>!</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Aaaaiiiieeeee!!!!! God! Had there ever been such a man?!</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He was beautiful.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Powerful and terrible.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>Dee-Ann covered his eyes and ducked for cover as Castiel </span> <span> <em>exploded</em> </span> <span>!</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He felt the impact of Castiel’s power wash over him where he crouched, but he was unharmed. The same could not be said for everything else in the square. After several long moments, Dee-Ann rose tentatively and saw that the entire courtyard had been scorched black. Near him were the charred husks that were all that remained of the two women who had been fighting there. And Dee-Ann looked in disbelief at his own feet. The grass lawn had been burned to a crisp like everything else, but for a perfect little circle around where he stood where the grass was as lush as ever before. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>So used to the sounds of death and battle had his ears become that Dee-Ann found the silence that now enveloped the courtyard deafening. He ran to where Castiel had fallen and shook him by the shoulders. More warriors and invaders were already pouring into the courtyard again. Castiel seemed to be in a daze. And Dee-Ann was about to slap him when his eyes opened and he smiled at Dee-Ann in a way that made his knees feel like water.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“We have to get inside!” Dee-Ann said helping him to his feet. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“No! They’re in the Keep. We have to get out of here!” Castiel said a little thickly, but the resolve in his voice was as strong as ever. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I need to look at my map.” Dee-Ann hesitated, looping Castiel’s arm around his neck and guiding them back into the passage Castiel had emerged from. He was still holding his blade, but it was awkward now with Castiel’s arm around him.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I think I can….” Castiel said tottering on his ridiculous shoes, but standing on his own two feet. “And there’s no need for maps. This is my home. I can get us out. Follow me….” He breathed, using both hands to coil his long long hair into a snake and pulling it over his shoulder.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He noticed Castiel was limping slightly. Not enough to slow him down overmuch. But it was clear he’d had a rough go of it. His dress was slashed and torn. And there was blood in his beautiful hair. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“You’re hurt.” Dee-Ann said as they crept down a narrow corridor.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“Nothing serious. Most of it’s not my blood.” Castiel admitted, though there was no humor in his voice. “Are </span> <span> <b>you</b> </span> <span> hurt?” he asked looking at Dee-Ann was such sincere concern Dee-Ann felt almost shy.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I’ll live.” He admitted after a moment. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>They halted at a corner, listening for anyone beyond. There was only silence. Motioning them forward with his head, Castiel took the lead again.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“How are you here?” Castiel asked glancing back over his shoulder as they half walked half jogged down the passages.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I had to find you.” Dee-Ann said without thinking. He could’ve lied. But somehow the truth kept spilling out. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I’m glad you did. I thought….when the fighting started I thought they’d….I feared the worst.” Castiel said after a moment. He seemed to somehow apologizing for not trying to find Dee-Ann. Stupid man. Did he think any woman could kill him when he was precious to the God? Did he think Dee-Ann expected to be rescued? Tcha! </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Many tried. They died.” Dee-Ann said, and seeing the shadow of something pass over Castiel’s face; he knew that horrible things had happened to the Prince as well. But now was not the time.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“This way.” Castiel said in a pointed whisper.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Where are we going? There are no passages that lead out of the Palace here.” Dee-Ann said, having unfolded his map and trying to see where Castiel was taking him. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“It wouldn’t be.” Castiel said. “The person who drew up that map for you only learned of its existence a short while before he died.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann widened his eyes. So many different emotions had scorched within that one short sentence, that he knew it would be best not to ask. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“We’re almost there. We just have to follow this passage all the way to the end, and then it’s just a short flight of stairs to the Lover’s G--” Castiel began, but was abruptly cut off the appearance of a burly woman around the corner. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel screamed even as the woman knocked him aside and raised a thick club to Dee-Ann who was brandishing his sword. Castiel grunted as he grabbed at her arm, and received a savage kick to the stomach for his effort. The woman drew a short blade from her armored belt, and lunged at Dee-Ann with a grunt. Dee-Ann knocked the club out of the way with the flat of his blade, then tossing it into his left hand clubbed the woman’s knife hand with his wrist. In the moment that her chest was exposed Dee-Ann planted a kicked with his all his might between her armored breasts. She staggered. And bringing his feet together to take maximum advantage of his momentum, Dee-Ann leapt off the ground and brought his blade down squarely between the woman’s eyes; all but cleaving her head in two.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He gasped. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>He hadn’t realized it as it was happening. But he had finally managed to perform a </span> <span> <em>perfect</em> </span> <span> example of the Wayward Son hota. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>And it had been at the most crucial moment. He tried and failed to dislodge his sword. It was buried in the woman’s skull too deeply. With a sigh, he bent and retrieved her knife. He turned to look back at Castiel, whose tattoos were glinting in the darkened passage. Evidently he’d been ready as well. They shared a look of mutual admiration and respect that Dee-Ann…enjoyed. His hollowed heart filled with the smile Castiel gave him. His beautiful blue eyes in the dimmed light.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Lets go.” He prompted turning on the spot.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Dee-Ann!!!!” Castiel shouted, as Dee-Ann’s knees buckled and he crumpled to the floor. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“What’s wrong?” Castiel asked frantically, knelt next to him now. “Did she cut you?”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“My….” Dee-Ann strangled out. His chest was burning and his breath was stubborn in coming. “Sh-shoulde…..” </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel caught his meaning, and was already stripping off his shirt. Dee-Ann groaned as the bandage the bitch Chaala had wrapped around his shoulder wound was ripped away. It was stained black red with blood. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Light blind me.” Castiel said softly, looking at the wound. Dee-Ann could not see it. But he knew it must be serious. “Stay with me. We only have a little but further to go! Please!” Castiel begged, his face a mask of anguish and concern. Dee-Ann nodded weakly. He let himself be dragged into a sitting position, and with Castiel’s help, found his feet. It was Castiel’s turn to loop his arm around his shoulders, and despite everything, Dee-Ann could not but grin at the faintest whiff of gooseberries wafting from Castiel’s hair. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>They came to a dark and much aged gate worked into the stone next to an aqueduct. Dee-Ann gratefully laid down and drank deep of the water flowing there. He let Castiel splash water on his face and drank yet more while Castiel borrowed his dagger and tried to force the old lock open. With a grunt of frustration and strain, the lock came loose and Castiel let out a satisfied huff as he kicked the gate open. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Gathering up Dee-Ann, the two of them hobbled their way down a narrow flight of stairs, and were outside. The night air was a heady mix of cooking meat, spices and….music? Laughter? Everywhere they looked people were dancing and drinking and laughing raucously. They were certainly not dying horribly. And Dee-Ann could not see a single blade in sight. He glanced at Castiel who seemed similarly bewildered. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“The nameday celebrations?” Dee-Ann asked. It seemed like a lifetime ago now. But it was still the same day.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“They don’t know…..” Castiel said in a soft voice.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“We have to get out of here.” Dee-Ann put in. Castiel nodded with a sharp sniff. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Come on. I know a place…..” Castiel said sounding unsure. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Their progress through the crowd of merrymakers was slow and tedious. Castiel had seated Dee-Ann on a barrel when they’d both grown too weary to keep walking, before sneaking up to a nearby ale house where he’d managed to pilfer them two bottles of cheap wine. Castiel had poured a generous wristful into Dee-Ann’s shoulder wound, which made him hiss and gnash his teeth. But he had to admit it had numbed it a little.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>After that they had settled in a relatively dark and empty alley to rest their feet and sat drinking in silence. The events of the day were gravid in both of their minds. But the wine was reviving them both powerfully. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“We’ve got to keep going….” Castiel breathed wearily. “It’s not that far.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“In a moment please.” Dee-Ann said swigging deeply of the wine. “Where are we going?”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Hopefully to someone who can take a look at that shoulder.” Was all Castiel said, pointing his chin at the wound. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>From somewhere above them, there was a deafening CRACK! Everyone in the street paused to look around for the source. The musicians stopped playing. And it was a woman’s scream that split the air. Everyone’s attention was drawn to the sky, and Dee-Ann gasped as he looked up himself….</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>And saw it. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>The brilliant full moon hanging over the city </span> <span> <em>changed</em> </span> <span> from glowing silver white…..to a red like blood staining silk.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>An icy wind ripped through the streets, and the crowd erupted into panicked screams. Through the din, Dee-Ann’s eyes sought out Castiel. He looked as if he had been carved from stone. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“What does it mean?” Dee-Ann asked. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“It means it’s over.” Castiel said. “The Queen is dead.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>END OF ACT TWO</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0040"><h2>40. New Dawn</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="normal">
  <span>It was luck more than anything else that allowed Castiel – now all but carrying Dee-Ann as they made their way through the chaos of the streets – to locate the house of the Harrowspex Misoorayah. He had recognized a particularly rundown building he remembered from the last time he had been here in the Bone Slums. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>Her windows were dark in her sunken shop as Castiel gently deposited Dee-Ann on the steps and hammered the door knocker a few times. The waiting minutes were pregnant with fear as Castiel began to worry that she might not be home. It was after all a national holiday, and it was not beyond the pale of reason that she might’ve abandoned her grim place of business to partake in the festivities. His breath was beginning to stutter in his chest. Dee-Ann was </span> <span> <em>not</em> </span> <span> in good shape. It had taken him a lot longer than he would’ve liked to remember the way to the Harrowspex’s shop. Dee-Ann had grown weaker and more incoherent with every step, and finally had all but lost consciousness. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel smoothed his hands over his head and down the length of his hair. If she wasn’t home……he had patently no idea what he was going to do.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He was so lost in his panicked reverie that he had all but completely missed the appearance of a single candle flame through the grubby window, and gave a little start as he heard a key thrust into the old lock and turned next to him. The Harrowspex looked much the same as the last time he’d seen her, her chestnut colored skin glowing oddly in the reflected light of the candle. She stood staring at him impassively.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Uh….you might not remember me….” He said for want of any better introduction. He straightened up to his full height and leaned in a little so his face would be illuminated by the candle. “My name is….”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I know who you are. And I know why you’ve come.” The Harrowspex said with the vaguest hint of a smile playing on her rugged features.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“My friend. He’s been hurt.” Castiel said taken aback. He’d grown so used to the general state of agitation among the peasants on the streets that it was more than a little unnerving to find the woman so calm.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Well come on then boy. Unless you’d rather stay out there on my doorstep?” she said, setting the candle down on a shelf next to the door and proceeding to help Castiel hoist Dee-Ann up and into the shop. She promptly locked the door behind them and helped Castiel carry Dee-Ann to the wooden table he remembered from before. He bumped his shin against something unseen on the floor, and nearly stumbled. He was not familiar with the layout of the room, and the candle did nothing to dispel the darkness of the almost cave like basement. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Get that fire going.” She all but ordered, already tearing at the bandage Castiel had rewrapped around Dee-Ann’s shoulder. How the woman knew exactly where to look for the wound Castiel did not know. But he remembered that she had some skill at diving thoughts. He piled four logs into the fire and stepped back, not bothering too look for a striker or any other kind of conventional firelighter. His tattoos gleamed bright gold as he stretched out his palm to the logs, and within moments a cheerful fire sprang to life inside the cold grate. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Behind him, Misoorayah was using a taper to light several free standing oil lamps. Where he lay supine on the table Dee-Ann looked…..bad. His hair was a sweaty, tangled mess and his skin – still stained with blood and dirt – was ashen. He seemed to be trembling, and as Castiel drew near he let out a series of little incoherent moans. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I didn’t know where else to go.” Castiel said addressing the Harrowspex. “We barely made it out of the Palace alive.” </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>When she didn’t respond to this extraordinary statement, Castiel soldiered on. “You </span> <span> <em>know</em> </span> <span> don’t you? What has happened?”</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The woman turned her head to meet his eyes, nodding gravely before taking a wickedly sharp looking blade from a hook on the wall and slicing away Dee-Ann’s shirt. Castiel’s mind was awash with questions, but for the moment the most important thing was helping Dee-Ann.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“How did he come by this wound?” the woman asked. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I don’t know. By the time I found him he already had it.” Castiel said earnestly. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Abruptly, the Harrowspex plunged a finger into the wound, gathering some of Dee-Ann’s blood under her long fingernail and lifting it to her mouth. Castiel couldn’t suppress a shudder of revulsion as he watched her taste the blood, working her tongue behind her lips; before spitting it out on the splintered wooden floor. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Dark magic. The wound reeks of it. Necromancy.” She said more to herself than to Castiel he was sure. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“What?” he asked in a sharp whisper. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“It was no normal blade that made this.” She said poking at the wound with her fingers, causing a fresh rivulet of inky black blood to ooze out. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“Can you </span> <span> <em>help</em> </span> <span> him?” Castiel asked.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I’ll do what I can.” She said sounding lost in thought. “But if the infection had spread too deeply, we might as well cut off the arm for all the good it’ll do.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“What are you saying?” Castiel asked looking down at Dee-Ann’s pale face. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I’m saying this is not a normal wound. I can treat the physical. But this corruption goes deeper than that. Already his aura is being affected. It’s shot through with dark spots.” She said, and Castiel’s anger flared. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Speak plainly witch!” he hissed. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“He’s dying.” She said flatly, and Castiel’s mouth went dry. “I can do what I can to slow the spread of the corruption. But unless we can find a treat the root cause……”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“What can I do?” Castiel asked.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Grind these up. And fill that cauldron with water, and get it on the fire.” She said removing a braid of dried herbs, pointing one taloned hand to a pewter cauldron next to the fire place. Castiel grabbed the cauldron awkwardly, walking through the shop to the room he remembered her casting the strings in the last time he’d been here, holding the cauldron under the tap and letting it fill.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“This is not to be pretty. I need you to be strong. But you must understand, we may fight like a tigress and still lose him.” The Harrowspex said. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“You will not lose him.” Castiel said determinedly. “</span> <span> <em>I</em> </span> <span> will not lose him.”</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>*     *     *</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The next hours pass as if in minutes. Misoorayah moved with studied ease and Castiel followed each of her many instructions without question. Castiel stoked the fire until he was a sweaty mess, and Dee-Ann was sick. Over and over he was made to vomit as Castiel wiped down his chest and back with rags soaked in vinegar, muttering apologies as he groaned incoherently amidst the convulsions which ravaged his body. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Many aspects of the healing Castiel could not remember. Too much had happened in too short a time. His mind had no more space for the grim and the awful. All he remembered was the determined look in her witch black eyes as she cut away foul bits of skin on either side of the wound, pouring boiling wine and eventually administering a thick poultice of her own design. For his part, Castiel could do nothing but murmur indistinct prayers as he held Dee-Ann’s face in his hands. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Eventually when his system had been purged and the wound was wrapped in fresh bandages, she stood away from the table. “That is all I can do for him. The rest is in his hands now. Hand me that milk thistle. It will help him sleep. I’ll brew a figwort tea. He’ll need….if he wakes.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“But he </span> <span> <b>will</b> </span> <span> awaken?” Castiel asked. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“This is the time of danger boy. He will awaken or he will die. There is nothing more to be done for him. It is in the hands of your God now.” She said with a finality that made him shudder. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>*     *     *</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel wanted to scream at her, but he knew she was right. She had done all she could. As Dee-Ann slept, covered in a thick woolen blanket she had produced; Castiel gratefully accepted her invitation to get out of his ruined dress and bathe. She produced a bundle of over large women’s clothing for him to wear. And as he began stripping off, she asked what he wanted to do with the ruined dress, stomacher and underthings. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Burn it for all I care.” He said, removing his wrapped bundles from inside the pockets and tucking them into his leggings. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Only a highborn would think to throw away such a thing.” The Harrowspex said. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“It’s covered in blood.” Castiel said frowning, finally managing to peel off his stockings. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“It’ll wash. The beads alone would fetch a small fortune. And there’s plenty of men round these parts who would buy the fabric off you.” She said folding the heavy fabric into a tight bundle. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Then take it. As recompense for helping us if nothing else.” He said bitterly, combing his fingers through his still damp hair. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>She vanished from the room and returned with a bottle of very dark wine, and a bowl of exotic smelling gruel. “Eat. You’ll need to keep your strength up. I can make up a bedroll upstairs. Your friend won’t be in any fit state to travel. And you’re practically dead on your feet.” She asked.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I’m staying with him.” Castiel said, though he did not fail to notice the strange way the woman was looking at him. He ignored her. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>She nodded, turning and pulling back a wall hanging to reveal an unseen door. This he assumed led to her bed chamber. He watched her go without another word. And he was grateful. He longed to be alone. Taking up the bundle of clothing, towels and a cake of home made soap; Castiel walked back to the room with the basin. His body was aching in various different places, and his feet – having grown used to the ludicrous boot heels – felt strange walking barefoot on the cold floor. His ankle smarted. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, fitted to the wall. And he began to understand why the woman had regarded him so strangely. On his throat above his color bone were bruises. The exact purpled impressions of fingertips and a thumb. It was a ghost of that woman’s hand. He dropped his bundles on the floor and took a step back so he could see himself fully. He felt his breath catch. There were so many bruises and scratches. The narrow margin of his survival was abruptly, horribly vivid. He ran his fingers over each point of tender, discolored flesh, finally settling between his legs where her fingers had most cruelly marked him.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>For a moment, he could again hear her frantic, lusty breathing and feel himself pinned against cold stone by the weight of her stinking, unwashed form. He reminded himself sternly that he </span> <span> <em>had</em> </span> <span> escaped. The woman was dead. But it brought very little comfort. He stepped over the lip of the basin into the steaming water and let himself submerge fully. It was smaller than he was used to, but as he curled into a ball he felt the water slip over the top of his head. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The enormity of the last twenty four hours was beginning to settle over his shoulders like a lead shawl. Tears spilled down his cheeks before he could stop them and he crumpled next to the fire. His chest gave itself over to great, wracking sobs and he strangled to suppress a cry as the tears continued to fall.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Tears for his family. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>For Gabriel. For his sisters. Perhaps….even for his mother. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He knew in his heart that they were done. All of them. But he couldn’t quite make himself accept it. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>All those people.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He did not know how long he sat there weeping, only that the water had grown cold by the time he emerged, pink and sore from scrubbing, and running his shriveled fingers along the length of his hair. It was strange putting on the clothes Misoorayah had provided. They did not fit him, and he had to roll over the sleeves many times before his hands became visible. The trousers were made of rough cotton, and did nothing for his bruises legs. But they would do for now. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Walking back into the front room, Castiel stoked the fire and installed himself in a chair next to the table where Dee-Ann lay. He took his unwounded hand in both of his. As horrible as the initial ordeal after their arrival had been, nothing was as black as the hours that followed.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel sat powerless, feeling Dee-Ann’s skin grow cooler under his touch. In the smallest hours of the morning, Castiel saw that something had changed. His features seemed different somehow. The features Castiel had memorized. The beautiful face he had etched in his mind forever. He realized it would be the easiest thing to kiss him and let him go. Dee-Ann was slipping away, even as he watched. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Please.” Castiel whispered blinking away tears, leaning in close to speak directly into Dee-Ann’s ear. “Don’t die.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>He smoothed Dee-Ann’s hair away from his face. “I’ve already lost so much…..” he said tremulously, still whispering. “I don’t think I could bear to lose you too.” He begged softly. He did not care just then how patently ridiculous he was being. He did not know this man. They had spoken barely ten dozen words to each other. But somehow sitting there, Castiel felt an all consuming certainty boiling up from the root of his soul that he </span> <span> <em>must</em> </span> <span> live.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann gave a kind of rattle, and Castiel got up to steady him, placing his hand on his chest. His fingers found the cord on which Dee-Ann’s scorpion amulet hung. Sniffing, Castiel worked his hands along the length of it until he found the ugly little amulet, fixing it to lay over his heart as it normally would. Castiel stared down at the grim little figure, unable to keep from thinking of all the trouble it had caused. Its black stone shot through with gold and red flecks glinted menacingly in the firelight. It was almost as if the thing was breathing. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel scoffed. “Some God.” He said frowning. “Where were you then? Hmmm?”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He fought the urge to rip the totem from around Dee-Ann’s neck and cast it into the fire. But he didn’t. He knew Dee-Ann would draw comfort from it even if Castiel wanted to scream and shout his indignation. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Why hadn’t the God protected them?</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Why hadn’t the God done something to stop the massacre of innocent men and children?</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Here lay Dee-Ann. A more faithful follower no one could possibly ask for. And yet he was near death, fighting for his life in some heretic witch’s basement. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>He was shaken from his thoughts when Dee-Ann seemed to shudder, and Castiel placed his hands on the cap of his shoulders to steady him. Though the second his hands touched Dee-Ann’s skin he pulled them back. It was as if his skin had </span> <span> <em>jolted</em> </span> <span>. Like touching a too hot surface without meaning to. Frowning, Castiel placed his palms on Dee-Ann’s chest. Again he felt the strange jolt. But determined not to shy away, Castiel held firm. A moment later, saw astonished as the sacred spells inked into his skin gleamed.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>With a deep breath, Castiel fed some power into his tattoos; and watched amazed as Dee-Ann’s breathing evened out. He gave a contented sigh and his mouth dropped open slightly. And if Castiel had not known better, he would have looked like a man enjoying a deep sleep.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Not certain what to make of this new development, and not entirely sure just what exactly he was doing; Castiel let instinct guide him as he unwrapped the bandages Misoorayah had tied around his wound; and peel them back. The poultice had hardened into a crust, and Castiel used the bandages to peel away the flakes until the wound was properly exposed. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>It looked bad. Around the black, purple gash the skin was discolored a sickly pale. Though Castiel could see a spider web of veins beneath the skin painted deep green and blue. The wound smelled of infection. Steeling himself with a breath, Castiel covered the wound with his right hand, fighting the urge to cringe as the sickly wetness touched the skin of his palm. Taking a deep breath through his nose, Castiel closed his eyes and forced himself to calmness, continuing to breathe methodically as he began feeding power down through his arm and into Dee-Ann. Only a little at first. He didn’t want to risk doing more harm than good. For an indeterminate amount of time, nothing happened; save that Castiel awoke to the realization that his forehead was now pressed against Dee-Ann’s chest.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Then he felt it. The moment when their heartbeats synchronized. And they were like one person. Castiel let his mind sweep softly, moving under his skin; taking stock of Dee-Ann’s wounds. His sore muscles. His aching back. The arrow wound in his leg which the Harrowspex had treated. It was like Castiel was pressing his fingertips into them, and feeling Dee-Ann’s pain. And just for a second, they all ached badly at once. Castiel had to work not to make a sound that would disrupt his breathing but somehow he managed it. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>Then tightening his grip on Dee-Ann’s shoulder, he felt the singular sensation of having the flow of his mind…..</span> <span> <em>reversed. </em></span><span>And suddenly, energy wasn’t pouring </span> <span> <em>into</em> </span> <span> him anymore. It was being drawn out. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>               And with it went his pain. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>                                                 His fatigue. </span>
</p><p class="normal">
  <span>         Even his fear and confusion. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>They sat like that for a long moment, and Castiel felt the world pulled back far enough and the two of them could just breathe in unison. There was no slaughter. No woman on the battlement. And in that moment, despite not quite understanding….Castiel let himself enjoy the way that – just then – they were mirror images of each other. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>They had the same cracks in their glass. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>And if thrown, they’d shatter into the same million pieces. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>His eyes shot open as a bolt of white light erupted around the room. Feeling breathless – as if he’d been plunged in icy water – Castiel pulled his hand away from Dee-Ann’s shoulder with enough force to send him toppling backwards out of his chair. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>On the table, Dee-Ann gave a pained groan, before abruptly; his eyes flew open and he sat up; breathing like a wounded stag. </span> <span>For a second they just stared at one another, before both of their attention was drawn to the side when Misoorayah came bolting into the room. “What in the world you doin down here boy?” she asked angrily as she looked around the room. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>It was obvious that she had been asleep, and that something had woken her violently. Castiel looked at her sheepishly, then back at Dee-Ann; who still looked shaken. Over his shoulder, Castiel noticed the windows lit by the grey light of dawn.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>"It's morning..." Castiel breathed. "He has lived through the night." </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“You’re awake.” The Harrowspex said more than asked. “That’s probably….what in the?”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>She interrupted herself mid-sentence as she walked around Castiel to look at Dee-Ann; before her eyes settled on his shoulder. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The wound had been burned closed. And in its place there was a series of fresh burns and raised welts, that made up a perfect imprint of Castiel’s hand.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0041"><h2>41. Exodus</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi guys. Just a slight trigger warning for some depictions of dead bodies towards the end of this chapter. Nothing too hectic I hope, but I thought I'd throw it in all the same. Hope you guys enjoy!!!!!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel sat with his knees pulled up to his chest next to the only rain smeared window in the upstairs of Misoorayah’s house. He was wrapped in a thick cloak he’d found bundled up in one of the umpteen cupboards secreted around the Harrowspex’s domicile. It was too long for him by several inches, and had clearly been made for a woman substantially larger than his slight frame. But it was blissfully warm, and the extra fabric allowed him to bundle up properly against the damp which seemed to seep in through the very stones of the walls. He made sure to pull the hood down low over his face and for good measure he’d wrapped a scarf around the lower half of his face like a bandit. He was some distance above the street, but she’d warned him to be careful about any curious onlookers.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The Harrowspex had left him alone to tend to Dee-Ann while she went out to buy provisions and gather some information about what was going on out there. It wasn’t much of a job for Castiel. After waking so abruptly since Castiel had branded his shoulder, he had immediately fallen into a deep – if somewhat fitful – sleep that had lasted for most of the last two days. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Outside the window, the sky was heavy with clouds and only a weak bit of sun managed to strangle its way through. But as bleak as the day was, it was still a vast improvement over the strangeness of the nights. The moon had continued to burn red overhead. And the Harrowspex’s speculations about what it could mean had done little to allay his fears. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Behind him, Dee-Ann gave a groan in his sleep. He still looked haggard, but he was clean. And Misoorayah had assured him that sleep was the best thing for him. His shoulder was wrapped in new bandages and – save for bruises which were still darkening on his face and body – all of his injuries had been attended to. Castiel paused next to the bed for a moment, then thought better of it. He could only imagine how horrid it would be if Dee-Ann awoke just then and caught Castiel looming over him. Turning on his heel, he bent to stoke the coals in the little burner next to the bed, and added another log for good measure. That done he returned to the window. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>The view was not particularly beautiful. The buildings in the bone slums seemed not so much to have been </span> <span> <em>built</em> </span> <span> as, thrown together. Like weeds left to grow unchecked in a grim garden. The streets seemed somehow to both busy and deserted at the same time. What people he could see were rushing from place to place clutching various bundles to their chests. To Castiel it was obvious that these were not normal pedestrians going about their day. He saw it in the way they seemed to be rushing from place to place. But this was not the hurry of men and women who know where they’re going. This was the rushing of people who were afraid. Fear driving them instead of purpose. Not going anywhere, just escaping. Not even knowing what it is they want to escape. There was no way word would’ve spread this far yet as to the exact mechanics of what had transpired on the Queen’s nameday. But perhaps they felt it on some deep instinctual level. Castiel watched as a woman bumped shoulders with a man walking in the opposite direction. He dropped the bundle he was holding and smiled up at the woman as she bent to help him retrieve it. But it was an ugly kind of smile, reflecting not joy…but pleading. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He looked away. Truth be told, as interesting and diverting he might have found the opportunity to observe the peasants of Et-Novakar a scant few days ago, they were not what drew his attention now. Even through the wisps of winter fog that it seemed never fully dissipated here, he could see the hulking outline of the Palace as it towered over the city.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>He traced the familiar outlines of the towers and buildings. He had never really seen his home from this angle, and he could even see his own tower in the distance. So strange. From here it almost looked peaceful. And in his mind’s eye, he could imagine the manicured gardens, the fine terraces and the beautiful chandelier hanging in the great Keep. Though the longer he looked, the more he could see evidence of what had happened. Motes of smoke were still curling from inside the great walls. And Castiel could not stop his mind from wondering if the Palace itself had been set aflame, or if this was a crude funeral pyre. The inescapable truth was simple. Something </span> <span> <em>had</em> </span> <span> happened here. Something horrible. Less than two days ago. Castiel felt a shiver ice its way down his spine. And just for a moment, his ears were again choked with the screams of the dying. He fought the urge to wretch at the memory of the smell. The stink of shit. The dank reek of fresh blood. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>A wave of panic gripped him without warning. From nowhere his breath came hard as he remembered running up stone stairs. Felt again the vice like grip on his hair, pulling him back as his hands were forced above him. His leg muscles tensed as he remembered the sound of tearing silk and blunt dirty fingers probing his flesh.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>And the laugh. Always the laugh.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Her cruel, mocking laughter as he had squirmed.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>As she had readied herself to……</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>*     *     *</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Looks a little different from down here dunnit?” Misoorayah asked from next to him.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel started with such force he almost fell to the floor. She had shaken him from his reverie and he was glad for it, taking advantage of the hood to turn his face away and quickly wipe the tears from his eyes. Tossing it back to properly reveal his face, he forced his features to calmness and schooled his expression to one of dignified amusement. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I didn’t hear you come in.” he said amicably.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I did call out. But you were a million miles away.” The Harrowspex said, stripping off her own cloak and handing it on a peg on the wall. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Yes…” Castiel said wistfully, his eyes drifting back to the window for a moment. “A person could almost be forgiven for thinking all was well in the world.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“There’s bags downstairs want unpacking.” Misoorayah said giving him a knowing look and walking out of the room. Castiel had spent enough time with the woman to know this abruptness meant she expected him to follow, and that the Harrowspex had something on her mind. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He followed quickly, the coat flapping batlike behind him as he walked. Indeed there was a mountain of parcels and baskets and wrapped bundles on the wooden table downstairs. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I’m stocking up. Things are getting bad out there. And they only lookin to get worse.” The woman spoke without him having to ask in that annoying fashion of hers, answering his thoughts as if he had spoken out loud.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“What news?” Castiel asked moving to help her unpack.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Just rumors and gossip for now, but people are starting to wise up that it weren’t no coincidence that the moon started bleeding on the Queen’s nameday. And people are getting nervous bout all the black clad women on the streets. Rumor has it they’re hankering to lock the gates of the city.” The Harrowspex said with a grunt as she deposited a fat clay jar on the table and tossed what looked like marrow bones into it. Castiel could hear liquid splashing for the impact, but he didn’t ask.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“That makes sense I suppose.” Castiel said.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“How do you figure?” the woman asked as she heaved the clay pot back under the table and began sorting through various bits and bobs that she’d bought.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Li-Illitur will want to keep what she’s done here quiet for as long as possible. I’d wager the ravens in the tower have already been killed. And it’s a fair bet anyone trying to leave the city will be intimately searched.” Castiel said. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“A guerilla force may have been enough to take the Palace. But the aim of this coup was stealth more than might. A few hundred women will be insufficient to hold the city. She’ll need to replenish her forces, and her stronghold is more than half a world away.” Castiel said in a flat, detached kind of voice as if he were discussing political theory with a teacher. He certainly didn’t sound as if the military leader he was discussing had slaughtered his family. “If word of what has happened spreads to neighboring fiefdoms before that happens, she’ll leave herself wide open for attack.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“An army could already be on its way.” Misoorayah said.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Impossible. A military force of that size would be noticed on the Queen’s Road.” Castiel said. “At least on the surface of it, my mother had many allies.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>A shadow passed over Misoorayah’s face then. And Castiel felt a wave of suspicion intermingled with fear rise up in him. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“There’s more.” He said more than asked. “You know something you’re not saying.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Only whispers. But a Harrowspex has her ways of telling truth from lies.” She said ominously.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Whispers?” Castiel prodded.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“That not all of the Queen’s children are dead.” She said.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel’s expression froze on his face. Light see him! How?! So soon?</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“It’s not true.” He whispered to himself. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Nothing’s confirmed yet. But two of the foreigners I passed on the street were both thinking it. Loudly.” The Harrowspex began. “They’ve confirmed you weren’t among the captured royals in the Keep. But that doesn’t necessarily mean much. There’s a mountain of bodies for them to search through. And they are.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“If that’s true it means I’m still in danger. Li-Illitur saw me before the massacre. She knows my face. She knows……” Castiel stammered. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Won’t be long till they know for sure. After that…..it’ll be madness. There’s already talk of a reward.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“We’ve got to go. We’ve got to get out of the city….</span> <span> <b>before</b> </span> <span> they can close the gates.” He said earnestly.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“That would be my suggestion.” The woman said. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Is Dee-Ann in any fit state to travel?” Castiel asked glancing at the ceiling.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Don’t make much difference one way or another. On the road there’s a chance that wound could go bad. Stay here though, you die for sure.” The woman said indifferently as she hung two chicken carcasses on a hook.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“We’ll need supplies. Food, water skins, clothes that fit….some kind of a tent or blankets if nothing else. Maybe a horse. You’ll have to get them for me. I can’t risk going out on the street.” Castiel said speaking as much to himself as to her.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>She gave him a strange look. “I </span> <span> <em>might</em> </span> <span> be able to help you.” She said with a shrug, crossing her hands over her stomach. “But…we haven’t discussed my fee.” </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel’s eyebrows knitted together. “Your fee?” he repeated.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Three days since you been here. That’s three days I haven’t been able to do my work” she said, and Castiel felt hot bile rise in his throat. He’d been a fool. A trusting fool. This woman was not his friend. She was a witch. He’d been stupid to think she was helping them out of the goodness of her heart. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I gave you my gown.” He said. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“And that just about covers the cost of food and lodging the two of you. But the water is getting hotter. Every moment I hide you is another moment I got a target on my back. I’m sticking my neck out for you boy.” The woman said harshly.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“It is no more than you owe me </span> <span> <em>witch</em> </span> <span>!” he spat. “For the life you took in my name.”</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“I owe you nothing. Didn’t nobody force you to come here.” She said. “You </span> <span> <em>and</em> </span> <span> your no care brother…..”</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“</span> <span> <b>Don’t you </b> </span> <span> <b> <em>dare</em> </b> </span> <span> <b>!</b> </span> <span>” Castiel interrupted her. “Don’t you dare speak of Gabriel. You knew we’d never have gone through with it if you told us it would cost some innocent….”</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Innocent? Bah!” she cackled to herself. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“….</span> <span> <b>innocent</b> </span> <span> person their life!” Castiel hissed, determined not to be goaded. “So you didn’t bother to tell us.”</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“You didn’t ask. I told you only life could pay for life. You didn’t ask what that meant, cause you didn’t want to know. Not really.” She said, the beads in her godbraids clacking as she walked around the table. “Two little highborn lords, coming down from on high to soil they boots in the Bone Slums. Messin with things they don’t understand. It was written on your face clear as day. You didn’t care about nobody back then. All you wanted was a way out of your future. And I gave you that. So I recommend you come correct on this one. I don’t owe you </span> <span> <em>shiiiiit</em> </span> <span> boy.” She said in a low, dangerous tone. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Monster.” Castiel said feeling a tear sting out of the corner of his eye. After a moment, he continued. “The woman you killed? She had a little brother. His name, was Lu-Cas. No more than a child at the time. He was sold to one of the workhouses in the outer rim…”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“When I found out what you had done…..I tried to save him. I brought him to the Palace. He was training to be a Mima. He was good at it.” Castiel continued with a nod, his voice growing thick as he spoke. “He liked cherry tarts……” he trailed off. “He died in agony. Raped and murdered.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>For a long moment neither of them spoke, and Castiel swallowed a lump in his throat. “I have to carry that. But none of it would have happened if not for you.” He finished, meeting Misoorayah’s eyes and stabbing his finger down on the table; making his bangles tinkle and dance.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I didn’t cut the thread.” She said sounding almost bemused.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>Castiel’s mouth went dry, and a hollow feeling appeared in his chest. “You don’t mean to say this is </span> <span> <b>my</b> </span> <span> fault?” he asked in a voice so soft it was barely audible. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>She gave him an indecipherable stare for a moment before she spoke. “Relax. You didn’t cause this. As I told you that night, I cast you more than half a hundred possible futures. I saw every one. And this massacre happened in each of them. Sometimes a little sooner, sometimes a little later…..but it was, as they say; inevitable.” She said in a tone like rotting snake scales. “If anything I was impressed. You chose one of only very few where you walked out of it all but unscathed.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Relief washed over him like honeyed sadsa. Though the deeper meaning behind her words still unsettled him. The Harrowspex’s expression had stayed neutral throughout. If she was in any way moved by his tale, she did not show it. Suddenly, he felt himself getting angry again. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“But you knew. You knew all along and you did nothing to stop it? Why wouldn’t you </span> <span> <em>do</em> </span> <span> something? Why wouldn’t you….?” He began but she cut him off. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Boy you think if all it took was a little blood, some hair and the seed of a fourteen year old to stop empires from falling and changing the world that I’d be living in a dump like this?” she asked incredulously as she threw up her arms to indicate the room they were standing in. “There are rules. Limitations to what I can do.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“But you could have warned us…” Castiel said desperately. “You could have given us to chance to prevent all this horror.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“Would you have listened? Would anyone?” she asked with a sneer. “</span> <span> <b>Please</b> </span> <span>. They’d have had me in irons before the day was out.” </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>She placed both hands on the table in front of her then, and for the first time, Castiel could see every moment of her age written on her face. She looked weary. “I was eight years old when Mijak came to my village. The soldiers killed my mother and my older sister. But they took their time killing my father. My brother, </span> <span> <em>Sula</em> </span> <span>, was beautiful enough for them to take him back to the capital with them. Me on the other hand…..I was sold to work in the mines.”</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>She broke off so she could look at him. “I don’t imagine a pampered little prince like you can even begin to imagine a place like that. Three out of every four girls they sent into those tunnels didn’t last a month. I lasted </span> <span> <em>five</em> </span> <span> years.” She said leaning forward. “I clawed my way inch by inch, step by step….until I found Sula again. He was a body slave to your brother. And in the end, he fell victim too. Beaten, raped and banished for the sin of being a slave who tried to reach for a better life.” She said bitterly. “I have no tears for your family, or for some poor innocent boy. </span> <span> <b>Everyone</b> </span> <span> has dead people they drag behind them. I got no problem adding you and your friend to my collection. Unless of course, you figured out some way to pay me.”</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I don’t have any money.” Castiel admitted flatly.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“One o’those will fetch a pretty penny.” She said gesturing at the bangles worked around his wrists. He lifted them as if to make sure he took her meaning correctly. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“These are my nameday bracelets. They were wrought around my arm. I can’t even take them off…..” he said in disbelief. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“And each one of them is worth more coin than most people around here see in a year.” She countered.  “Sides….s’not a good idea for you to be flashing wealth like that. Things are about to go from bad to worse for this city. Give it a week they’ll chop off your hands to get to trinkets like that.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel looked down at his wrist, raising it and feeling the familiar motion of the bangles falling around the motion. It was almost to impossible to imagine his arms without them. They were practically a part of his flesh at this point. He let his eyes fall closed and allowed himself one long breath.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Give me the knife.” He said holding out his hand. “If anyone is going to cut these off, at least let it be me.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>*     *     *</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel sat nursing a mug of steaming tea as Misoorayah puttered about the storefront making all manner of potions and <em>things</em> he did not wish to know more about. His mind was gravid with everything that had been said, and his soul was heavy with questions about this life he had chosen. Not to mention those ones he had not. It had been some small solace to know this misery was not entirely his own doing. But he was terrified now of the possibilities that might lay ahead. Several times he had tried and failed to strike up a conversation that might lead in a direction where she would reveal some nuggets of information but she had dismissed him every time. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>"Not right for a person to know too much of they own future." she had said. "Most of the time, people don't like things they hear. And every step they take to try and prevent a thing from happening only brings it closer."</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>"You have to tell me something! Please!" Castiel begged as she made to leave the shop to run errands.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>"One question. <strong>One</strong>. No specifics." she said looking suspicious.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel's mind had run away with him. There were a thousand questions. Would he have children? Would he find love? Would he die an old man or was his death near? Was his entire family really dead? </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>So many questions. Yet as he drew breath to speak the one he asked came almost unsummoned. "Will I be happy?" he asked feeling foolish.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The Harrowspex looked at him for a long moment, pulling her mouth into a long line. "This path you've chosen will make you happy. Happier than most I'd guess....." she said, then turned to face him fully. "....but first it'll make you strong."</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>*     *     *</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>It took her another day and a night to procure the list of things they devised together that Castiel and Dee-Ann would need once they managed to quit the city. A horse was out of the question as most of them would soon be needed for meat for the peasants. And Castiel did not allow himself any time to ponder what it would mean once they actually did get out. Misoorayah had had to show him step by step how to pack the bundles and tie them together with a slim rope in a way that they could be foisted onto one’s back. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann was weak, but determined. And had proclaimed he was more than fit to travel as soon as was needed. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>The only other problem Castiel could not seem to find a solution to was </span> <span> <em>how</em> </span> <span> to actually escape the city. He had never even been to the gates. And by now they would surely be patrolled by Li-Illitur’s soldiers looking for him. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I have been thinking about that.” Said the Harrowspex when Castiel voiced his concern to her that night. “I think I may have a solution.” She added, but there was something ominous in her voice. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“What aren’t you saying?” he asked.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“You’re not gonna like it.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>*     *     *</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>It took them another week in the end to affect their escape. And Castiel swore to himself – even as it was happening – that he would never speak of it, or think about it ever again. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Having been more than compensated for her efforts with no fewer than three of Castiel’s nameday bracelets; the Harrowspex had volunteered herself to the Soldiers for one of the most distasteful – yet essential – duties in the city. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Corpses. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Corpses. Corpses. Corpses.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>After the first few days, the very air had begun to reek. By the end of the first week, the stench had grown all but unbearable. And with the smell, came the vermin. Rats and crows and ravens and flies and cockroaches and suck-you-dries. And they brought with them all manner of pox and corpse disease that would ravage the city for months to come.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Initially, the soldiers had thought to burn the dead. But the fires had grown ungainly large in only a scant few hours, and several portions of the city had actually taken alight. To prevent the entire city from burning down, it was determined that plague pits would have to be dug outside the city gates.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The dead were loaded onto carts, which were then emptied into the pits. And it was in one such a cart that Dee-Ann and Castiel – wrapped in oiled traveling cloaks and buried beneath a dozen half decomposed corpses – were smuggled out of the city finally. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The journey to the city gates had been grim. But it was relatively fast. What followed was the true horror. Once the cart had been emptied, and Castiel had felt himself falling into the chasm filled with the dead…..they’d had to lay there. Unmoving. For hours. It had been mid-afternoon when they had been heaved over the edge. But they could not risk moving until nightfall. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>There were no words for the horror of it. And Castiel thought for sure he would go mad from the buzzing of the flies. That he would be driven insane by the pulsing of the maggots and sickly sweet rotten smell of decay. Even as the crows circled overhead and cawed out a broken symphony while they picked at the rotting flesh. The dull thuds of fresh bodies being heaped on top of them were like the hammer blows of the God.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel felt the scream begin to bubble up in him. Felt himself begin to thrash against the confines of the cloak he was wrapped in. He needed to breathe. He needed to be free of this place. He needed to move!</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Then suddenly he felt a hand grasp his. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>It was Dee-Ann. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel’s head was tightly wrapped to in scarves and his hood had been pulled down and tucked into his neck to completely cover his face and head. But he turned to look in the direction of Dee-Ann regardless. And somehow he knew that Dee-Ann was looking at him as well. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>They lay there, hand in hand; for hours.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>And throughout, Castiel clutched Dee-Ann’s hand like a drowning man.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>*     *     *</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Only when the sun had set, and the Blood Moon rose in the sky above them; did they dig themselves out. Both of them were exhausted and choked on the air as they dug themselves inch by inch, foot by foot out of the pit. And under cover of darkness, two barely visible shadows set off, into the unknown.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0042"><h2>42. On the road</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi guys. Just a short little update to wet your appetite. I'm going to be skipping blocks of time within the chapters to come just because there are going to be a lot of days that are very samy for Cas and Dean. But not worry. There will still be some......developments......along the way. Hope you guys enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="normal">
  <span>Not the way it should’ve been.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>It was the first thought that passed through Dee-Ann’s weary mind as he woke. The stone was hard and cold against his cheek and all down his body. With great effort, he pushed his eyes open. His eyes were sticky, uneven and heavy and protesting against the passing of his lids. As he slowly began to unfurl himself from the tight curl he had formed himself into, he found his limbs too were sluggish and uncooperative. He’d wrapped himself in the mottled grey traveling cloak the Harrowing woman had bought for him, but his limbs had become tangled in sleep. Sitting up, he realized his right hand was on his left shoulder. Covering the still bandaged burn Castiel had made there. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He shook his head.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>‘Aaaiiiieee God. This man you have brought over my path.’ He thought to himself. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>If it had been the God. He didn’t know. Since that day on the stairs – when the God had seen fit to fill him with its </span> <span> <em>power</em> </span> <span> – there had been nothing but silence. Whenever he had been conscious he had tried to speak to the God. He had clutched at his Scorpion amulet until his fingers bruised, but it did not come alive. He did not feel it burning with the God’s closeness. It was just a lump of stone. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>With a groan and a long sigh of pain, he managed to get to his feet. He was still weak from whatever it was that Witch had done to him. And his body ached from the cold, and his still healing injuries. He cast the thought aside. What was pain? He was alive. The God had saved him and Castiel and anything less than perfect gratitude was the same as spitting in the God’s searing eye. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He looked around. The cloak wrapped around Castiel was so dark, in the weak first light of dawn he was all but invisible. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>*     *     *</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>After managing to dig their way out of the corpse pit, the two of them had run as long and as far as they had been able. But it had been hard going. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“We cannot take the road.” Castiel said already stepping off the cobblestones of the large, wide road laid into the ground beneath them. “They’ll be watching it for sure.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann nodded silently and followed him onto the rougher terrain. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The city of Et-Novakar lay in a kind of valley basin surrounded by craggy hills covered here and there with stinging grass; and copses of black stone that eventually launched into the higher mountains surrounding the city entirely. Dee-Ann had run a little ahead but it was no good. It did not take long for the night to close its fist around them.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>A wind whistled over the plains and seemed to slice through his clothes and even his cloak. When he remarked on it, Castiel had nodded gravely. “It is said in the times of antiquity that Et-Novakar was surrounded by magnificent forests.” He explained. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann frowned as he looked around him. The earth was pocked and stony. “They were all cut down.” Castiel answered Dee-Ann’s unspoken question. “The wood was used to build the first structures in the city, where the Palace now stands. The valley was left bare to provide a military advantage. An army marching on the city would be spotted well in advance.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann watched silently as something died in Castiel’s eyes. “Of course, they never anticipated anyone would find a way to strike at them from within their own walls.” He added softly.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>They continued in silence after that, both by choice and by necessity. The slope of the valley was turning steeper, and since they were following but not using the winding Queen’s road, they had to resort to their hands in places to continue climbing. Several times, Dee-Ann could hear Castiel behind him. His breath was coming hard, and he frequently seemed to stumble and trip over unseen stones or putting his foot in the wrong place. He realized it was quite possible that the Prince had never walked on such terrain before. If the stupid clothes Dee-Ann had seen him wearing were any indication he thought it was very likely. And Castiel was carrying more of their supplies than Dee-Ann. The Harrowing woman had said he must be careful not to put any weight on his wounded shoulder. And the arrow wound in Dee-Ann’s leg was like a hard fist in his thigh. But Castiel did not complain. Not once. And Dee-Ann nodded his respect to himself at that. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>A thick, dense fog had risen from the boggy riverbeds. And after the first few hours, the city lights all but vanished from sight, plunging them into the near blackness of true night. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“We need to find someplace to wait out the night.” Dee-Ann said squinting against the darkness to try and see more of their surroundings. The fog was thick enough now that even the blood red light from the moon was not much help. Castiel cleared his throat next to Dee-Ann, breathing hard through his mouth and mopping a handful of his cloak over his brow. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I have a tent here, but we’ve no wood for a fire.” He breathed.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“No tent. And no fire. We’re too exposed here. Once the sun rises any riders on the road will see us.” Dee-Ann said. “Up there.” He continued, pointing at a steep hillside surrounded by jagged boulders and leading into a crevice. Castiel squinted – still breathing hard – and trying to see what Dee-Ann was pointing at.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“There?” he asked looking confused. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Water cut that.” Dee-Ann explained, tracing his pointed finger into the crevice slicing the hill in half. “There will be caves.” He finished. He had heard the Woman in the village teaching her daughters where to look for sandcats and mountain goats when they had hunted in the Anvil. All the streams in the anvil had dried up hundreds of years before of course, but Dee-Ann remembered the woman shouting at the daughters to see the evidence in the rock and stone. The Woman had either not noticed or cared that Dee-Ann – a worthless he-brat – had been listening in the throws of completing his many chores. But the memory bubbled up in him now and Dee-Ann silently thanked the God. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel gave a nod and a small shrug, before following Dee-Ann wordlessly. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>True to form, there had been an area where the water had bitten into the rock to make an open mouth. It was night black inside, but Castiel had dared to make a tiny flicker of light and send it dancing into the cave. It was deeper than Dee-Ann had thought at first. But after the first twenty or so feet, it became too narrow for them to continue any further. They walked as deep as they could. The cave was not overly wide, and though the wind still whistled around the mouth of the cave, they could turn their backs to it and be spared the worst.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>Shivering and exhausted, they both unburdened themselves of their wrapped bundles, and sat down on the cold, damp stone. “You need to eat.” Castiel said. “And I have to check your bandages. Let me see if I can’t gather some twigs or something to make a fire. </span> <span> <em>Just</em> </span> <span> a small one.” He added as Dee-Ann gave him a sharp look. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann scrubbed his hand through his hair. It was cold and damp from the fog. He untied his cloak from around his neck and draped around him like a blanket. Castiel returned a few minutes later. He bore two handfuls of what looked to be beach grass and a bundle of twigs – replete with green leaves still on them – pushed into his belt. His pulled off his cloak as well and knelt down, depositing the twigs and grass in a small heap on the cave floor.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“What are you doing?” Dee-Ann asked pushing off from where he was sitting. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Making a–” Castiel began but Dee-Ann interrupted him. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“These are too </span> <span> <b>wet</b> </span> <span>!” Dee-Ann said separating the grass from the twigs. “You never put anything green into a fire. These twigs are full of sap. Even </span> <span> <b> <em>if</em> </b> </span> <span> you manage to get them burning you’ll smoke us clean out of this cave.”</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I’m sorry.” Castiel said looking slightly bewildered. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Let me do it.” Dee-Ann said digging in his pocket for his knife. It was the same kitchen knife he had stolen from Maeghara’s villa long ago, but he had sharpened it often while he’d been traveling in the caravan of the Bitch Bhara-bhur. He stripped off the leaves from the twigs with his fingers, only using the knife on those that were the most stubborn. There were small thorns on some of the twigs and they pricked his fingers. These he set aside while he twisted the length of the grass like a rope and tied them together until they formed a wreath. These at crackled with sufficient dryness that they would burn sufficiently. Using the knife, he sliced a lock of hair from the side of his head; spreading it out on top of the wreath.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“If you have nothing else to fuel a fire, human hair burns.” He explained when Castiel frowned at him. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I didn’t know that.” Castiel said softly. Stupid statement. Why did he think Dee-Ann was telling him? He picked up a loose rock from the ground and made to strike his knife off it.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Don’t.” Castiel said, holding up his hand to stop him. He watched as Castiel’s liquid blue eyes focused on the grass, and a second later smoke began to curl from it. With a sound like the tearing of fabric, the fire caught and sprang to life. Dee-Ann nodded, putting the knife away. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“We can leave these close to the fire so they can dry.” He said arranging the twigs in a crude circle around the cheery little flames. “That way they won’t make so much smoke.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>They sat in silence for a few minutes, letting the fire warm the cave and banish some of the damp from the clothes and hair. Despite the drying twigs, it was obvious the meager little fire would not be sufficient to attempt any cooking. So instead they dined on some hard cheese and stiff bread Dee-Ann retrieved from his pack. It was clear Castiel was still hungry when he’d finished his bread and cheese, and Dee-Ann had been careful to only pour each of them a few sips of wine from the bladder in his pack. The food – they had all agreed – had been left to Dee-Ann to plan with the Harrowspex, after she’d rejected </span> <span> <em>Castiel’s</em> </span> <span> proposed list of provisions which had included such ludicrous fodder as fruit tarts, jars of pickled shrimp and spiced butter.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I need to take a look at your shoulder.” Castiel said, shaking him from his reverie. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I’m fine.” Dee-Ann said.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“It’s a fresh burn. And you’ve been sweating. The Harrowspex said we need to keep it clean.” Castiel said tartly. Dee-Ann grumbled as he pulled up the tunic he was wearing to reveal the bandages. Castiel’s slender fingers made quick work of the knots and patiently unrolled the bandages to reveal the wound. Dee-Ann suppressed a wince as they came unstuck from the scar; the icy air prickling like spider’s legs over the raw welts. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Does it hurt?” Castiel asked softly, teasing his fingers around one of the raised ridges. Dee-Ann thought he heard something like apology or guilt in his voice. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Not really. A little….sometimes.” Dee-Ann lied. The truth was the burn was quite painful. But he did not think that Castiel would like to know that.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“More than that.” Castiel said dipping the edge of the bandage into his wine and lightly padding it over the wound. Dee-Ann kept his face schooled even though his skin screamed wherever the wine kissed him.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“It’s nothing.” Dee-Ann said covering Castiel’s hand with his own, looking up to meet the Prince’s eyes properly. Something tugged inside his chest looking up into Castiel’s beautiful blue eyes. Like something tightening into a knot. Or perhaps a knot being </span> <span> <em>un</em> </span> <span>-tied. He wasn’t certain.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He became aware of the position they were in. Dee-Ann was sitting all but shirtless with Castiel kneeling next to him, Dee-Ann’s left arm slung over Castiel’s knee to give him easier access to the wound. He’d grown accustomed to having Castiel’s body so close to his during the time he had been sick and abed in the Harrowspex’s house. But he had spent most of that time either asleep or delirious. But he was not sleeping now. And for some inexplicable reason - sitting half frozen in a cave outside of Et-Novakar – Dee-Ann became acutely aware of the strange…..intimacy…of the moment. There were only a few inches of empty air between their faces. Castiel spoke. Something about the wound and being careful. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann did not hear him. Instead he watched as his lips moved. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>They were full.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>And their movement as Castiel spoke – in his elegant highborn way – was beautiful just like the rest of him. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>They looked soft too. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>                Like pillows.</span>
</p><p class="normal">
  <span>   And warm. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>       Dee-Ann could just feel the stirrings of Castiel’s breath against his face.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>                     Warm and sweet. And soft. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He wanted to…..</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“</span> <span> <em>Dee-Ann</em> </span> <span>?” Castiel asked sounding concerned. His voice was a little loud, and Dee-Ann started. He sat back, which meant he’d </span> <span> <em>actually</em> </span> <span> leaned forward a bit! </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>Aaaaiiiiieeeee!!!!!! God! What had happened?!?!? Why was this happening </span> <span> <b>again</b> </span> <span>!?!?!?!?!?</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“What?” he barked.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“You were looking very strange. Are you alright?” Castiel asked. Dee-Ann frowned at him. His face felt hot and flushed suddenly. He slapped Castiel’s hand away.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“Tcha! I’m </span> <span> <em>fine</em> </span> <span>. Didn’t I already tell you this? I think that I did!” he said whipping his tunic down to cover himself and balling his cloak in his lip. This to cover the fact that his cock had chosen that moment to grow hard enough to ache. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Alright.” Castiel said holding up his hands. “I’m sorry.” He added almost off handedly. “I suppose we should get some sleep.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann sighed, closing his eyes. He had ruined it. Whatever the strange and unknown intimacy of the moment before, he had ruined it. And he was sorry. He could see Castiel trying – and failing – to hide a bruised expression as he put away the salve the Harrowing woman had given them. And just for a moment, he could see the hardship of these recent days on his face. He had lost everything and everyone he’d ever known; only for Dee-Ann to handle him so roughly. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Thank you.” He said without thinking. Castiel blinked up at him looking wholly confused. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann shook his hair out of his eyes so Castiel could see him properly. “I didn’t…..I….” he stammered. He was not good at words. And somehow this felt very important to get right. “I don’t know that I ever thanked you.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“For what?” Castiel asked with a curious half smile playing on his face. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“For my life.” He said softly. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>The fire crackled and all the light in the little cave was suddenly dancing in Castiel’s eyes. But before he could speak Dee-Ann continued. “I know the Harrow woman had given up on me. She told you that I would either die or I would live. And </span> <span> <em>you</em> </span> <span> said…..”</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“That I would not lose you.” Castiel finished for him. “I didn’t think you’d heard that.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I did.” He said. “And I am grateful.” </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>A smile shot over Castiel’s face. There then gone like a glint of sunlight off metal. But Dee-Ann had seen it. And it was glorious. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“You’re welcome.” Castiel said staring deep into his eyes. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>*     *     *</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>They had slept after that. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>*     *     *</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann looked at Castiel’s sleeping form. He could not be sure, but it did not look as if Castiel had moved at all in the night. Feeling a pin prick of guilt, Dee-Ann knelt down and put a hand on his shoulder, then thought better of it. Yesterday had been a hard day for the Prince and today would be no better. Dee-Ann decided to let him have a few more moments of sleep before they had to tackle the day.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>They hadn’t spoken overmuch of their </span> <span> <em>plan</em> </span> <span> now that they were out of the city. Escaping Et-Novakar had consumed every conversation since Dee-Ann had woken up from his delirium. Armed with his slingshot, Dee-Ann set out onto the craggy moor – for in the thin daylight he could see that it was a moor – and looked for something they could eat for breakfast. He knew there were rabbits here. He remembered the Bitch Chaala hunting them for sport when they’d first come to the city. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>*</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He returned a short while later with the dead rabbit in his hands. Castiel was sitting against the wall of the cave, tears streaming freely down his face. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“What’s wrong now?” he asked and instantly regretted the harshness of his tone. He was not accustomed to speaking this many words. Much less to caring about how his words made the listener feel. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“And a very good morning to you as well.” Castiel said, scrubbing the edge of his sleeve over his cheeks. In his hand, Dee-Ann could see a book. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“What’s that?” he asked. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I found it while I was packing up my pack.” Castiel explained folding the book and putting it in his pocket. “It’s a collection of plays….”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“And they’re making you cry?” he asked. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“They were written by my brother.” Castiel cut in looking annoyed. “They were the last thing he ever gave me. Right before…”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>Dee-Ann could not suppress and annoyed huff. “Well if you have finished crying over a book, I have breakfast.” He said holding up the rabbit. He turned to walk outside. It was daylight now. A fire would not be so visible. Behind him, he heard Castiel scramble to his feet. Next he felt himself bodily turned as Castiel shoved him. He </span> <span> <em>shoved</em> </span> <span> him?!</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“You absolute fucking…….</span> <span> <em>assbutt!!!</em> </span> <span>” Castiel yelled through gritted teeth. His fury was etched on his face and it was clear he wasn’t thinking clearly as he spoke. “Light blind you!”</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>Dee-Ann looked at him with bewilderment. “Would it </span> <span> <em>kill</em> </span> <span> you to have just the tiniest </span> <span> <b>modicum</b> </span> <span> of </span> <span> <em>compassion</em> </span> <span>?” Castiel yelled. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“I was a </span> <span> <b> <em>PRINCE OF THE BLOOD</em> </b> </span> <span>!!!!!” Castiel screamed. “I have been beaten. I have been punched and kicked and stabbed and nearly raped!” he shouted forming his hands into fists and shaking his shoulders. “My feet, are killing me. My body is tired. I’m half frozen. I’m starving. I was a Prince of the Blood…and now here I am, standing in the middle of a </span> <span> <em>bog</em> </span> <span> – with you - after sleeping in the dirt! Because the woman who murdered my entire family, is still </span> <span> <em>trying</em> </span> <span> to kill me!” </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“That book….is the only link I have left to my entire life. And all you can do is…….”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He collapsed into a fit of sobs then.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann let him cry for a moment, before walking over and taking hold of his left arm and pulling him up. Castiel looked bewildered. Dee-Ann pointed with his wounded hand to the mountains surrounding the valley. They were just visible through the fog which had not yet burned away in the grey light. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“You see those mountains?” he asked not waiting for an answer. “You may not know this, but the narrow pass through them is the only way out of this valley. We still have at least a day and a night before we will reach them.” He added before turning them around. This time he pointed at an almost solid wall of clouds approaching from the horizon. They were dark and heavy, and looked more like a floating mountain than anything so intangible as clouds.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“You see those clouds?” he asked again not waiting for an answer. “They have rain in them. And soon, that rain will start to fall. That rain will turn into snow.” He continued, speaking loudly and quickly to keep Castiel from interrupting. “We have enough food for a week – at most – if we are careful. I have been frozen in these mountains before. More than two weeks of snow so thick you could barely see your hand in front of your face…..”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He watched a look of anger intermixed with terror floating on Castiel’s face. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“It took us two days to trek through the mountains. Except that was on horseback in a proper caravan. </span> <span> <b>We</b> </span> <span> are on </span> <span> <em>foot</em> </span> <span>. And we need to put those mountains behind us before that rain starts to fall.” He said sternly, letting go of Castiel’s arm. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“I’m trying to keep us alive.” He said picking up the fallen rabbit. “You’re crying over a </span> <span> <em>book</em> </span> <span>.”</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He didn’t wait to see Castiel’s face as he went to gather fuel for the fire.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Don't be mad at me!!!!!! I know we've gotten to know them very well, but remember these two don't actually know each other very well at all. So there's bound to be some friction from time to time. But you know what they say about friction........:D</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0043"><h2>43. Interlude</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey guys. Just a little check in with our bad guys. Plooooooooooooooooooooooooooot dump! Just to confirm, after the first break they are speaking Sha-Tani the entire time.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="normal">
  <span>
    <b>
      <span class="u">City of Et-Novakar</span>
    </b>
  </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The Reverend Mother Ravenna Duaiv Mac-Leire stepped out of her carriage wearing her signature sneer. Two sisters dressed in matching black robes followed her out of the carriage. She surveyed her surroundings with distaste before stepping onto the gravel and proceeding with surprising speed up the stairs to the Great Keep. Her right hand held a long metal cane which announced each footstep with a clang as she drove it hard into the ground. Her left held a perfumed handkerchief, which she pressed tightly to her nose. The air reeked of death. And all around her as she walked she could see the evidence of bodies being disposed of. Twice, she’d had to step around slaves who were feverishly scrubbing at dried pools of blood.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>She walked quickly, making her ink black cloak and robes billow and swish around her as she moved. Those few fools who dared meet her eyes quickly looked away at the storm of emotion they found there. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The doors of the Keep were closed, but not bolted. She hammered against them with her cane and some unseen slave opened them from within. Proceeding through the antechamber, where the godbowls had been emptied and two Godposts had been hatcheted down; she walked into the Keep proper. Overhead, the great chandelier glinted silently as she remembered. But there was not much else that reminded her of the last time she had set foot in this place. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The room was not empty. In fact it was quite bustling with people. Slaves and soldiers alike moved about the space with all manner of purposes. Some carried scrolls or trays of food. Some were cleaning. Most seemed to be concerned with tending the fires – from what she could see most of the hearths had been lit. Along each of the walls great scaffolds were being constructed from what seemed to be planks as well as pieces of broken furniture. And in one corner she could see that a section of wall had been splattered with a few colors of paint. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Despite all this, an aura of death still hung over the room, and her senses prickled at the misery she knew had transpired here. The room was relatively silent except for a distant clanging sound like heavy construction. She paid it no mind. The moment she rounded the corner her eyes found Li-Illitur. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>She had draped herself casually in the massive Throne on the dais at the end of the room. She was not in full armor. Merely a breast plate and some spaulders. One leg dangled over the armrest and her arms were folded lazily over her breasts. She watched the Reverend Mother’s progress down the center of the room with a kind of frank disdain as if the three robed women presented about as much entertainment as a dull child doing a cartwheel. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Your eminence.” Li-Illitur said in Novaki when she was close enough. “How…honored we are to host you.” Her voice was flat, but her face spoke of some secret amusement. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Honored enough to keep me waiting outside the city gates for an entire day.” The Reverend Mother sneered. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“We are in a state of heightened security at the moment. The current situation is severe enough that we have instituted siege protocols.” Li-Illitur said sounding smug. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I know all about your….situation.” The Reverend Mother said. “What is all of this?”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Repairs mostly. And a few improvements.” Li-Illitur said struggling to force her tongue to form some of the Novaki vowels. “These Northerners have no sense of color…..” she said looking around the room. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I have not traveled all of this way to discuss decorating.” The Reverend Mother said. “</span>
  <span>
    <em>Clear the room.</em>
  </span>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The blond woman cocked her head as if she hadn’t quite understood. “I said.” The Reverend Mother spoke again. “Clear…..the…..</span>
  <span>
    <b>
      <em>room</em>
    </b>
  </span>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>On this last word her voice dropped a full octave, and seemed to boom around the stone chamber. She raised her hands and her shadow expanded beneath her until it was a great darkness that rose and fell over the Keep like a blanket. The Slaves looked around terrified. Some screamed. Others broke into a run as a chilling wind seemed to howl all about them, snuffing out candles and making the fires sputter for a moment. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Throughout Li-Illitur looked as bored as ever, but she sighed through her nose and inclined her head. The Reverend Mother lowered her arms and the effect she was having on the room passed with a final sigh of icy wind. It didn’t take long for everyone to make their rushed way out of the Keep, leaving on the three black robed women and Li-Illitur. Once they were alone, the two Sisters left the Reverend Mother to take up positions at the door and make sure they were not interrupted. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>&lt;</span>
  <span>
    <em>Was that really necessary?</em>
  </span>
  <span>&gt; Li-Illitur asked, slipping into her native language of Sha-Tan now that they were alone. The syllables were guttural and harsh, and the consonants seemed almost angular she spoke. Though her entire body language spoke of comfort and ease as she spoke. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>&lt;</span>
  <span>
    <em>You arrogant, impulsive, vainglorious fool!</em>
  </span>
  <span>&gt; The Reverend Mother answered her in kind.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>*     *     *</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I know. I upset the timeline a little. But honestly it was all so drawn out. So boring. The bowing and scraping and nonsense. All I did was skip ahead to the end. I struggle to see why you’re so upset.” Li-Illitur said swinging her leg over the arm of the throne and standing up.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Upset?!” The Reverend Mother spat. “You have </span>
  <span>
    <em>hopelessly</em>
  </span>
  <span> complicated things! You have always been an impulsive child. But this time you have gone </span>
  <span>
    <em>too</em>
  </span>
  <span> far. </span>
  <span>
    <b>All</b>
  </span>
  <span> you had to was wait a scant few months! Married the little Prince? And all would have fallen into place.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Li-Illitur rolled her eyes, walking down the stairs of the dais and picking up a pitcher of wine from a tray a slave had set down. The Reverend Mother continued. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“You would have been a legal member of the most powerful family in Mijak, not to mention a line of succession stretching back a thousand generations. After that, any move you made to help the Queen into the afterlife could have been explained away. Poison. An accident while hunting. Even a blade in the night could have been spun into…political infighting within the family……” she said sounding outraged. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“What difference does it make? She’s just as dead now as she would have been then. I made her watch while I fucked her sons. Then I slit her throat and watched her bleed like a stuck pig. Then I strapped her carcass to my saddle and dragged it behind me through the city streets.” Li-Illitur said, breathing quickly through her nose with obvious pleasure as she recounted the tale. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Where is the body now?” The Reverend Mother asked.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I cut off her head with her own sword, and put it on a pike on the Palace wall. When her flesh rots off? I will add her to my armor along with the blood of her children.” Li-Illitur said with a smirk. She swigged some of the wine and lost herself for a few moments enjoying the memory….</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“You would do better to let a Godspeaker perform the proper rituals.” The Reverend Mother suggested. “If you mean to rule these people they cannot view you as a heretic.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I’d love to. But unfortunately they’re all dead.” Li-Illitur said coyly. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“You killed the High Godspeaker?” The Reverend Mother asked hotly.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Mmmm hmmm.” Li-Illitur muttered thickly as she sipped. “Opened him from navel to lip with his sacrificial blade. Bled him right where you’re standing. His head is on the pike immediately to the Queen’s left.” She added with a chuckle.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“A bit of theater that may cost you everything. You ask me what difference it makes? You make a pageant of slaughtering the Queen. You kill the appointed servant of their God? You wretched woman. The </span>
  <span>
    <b>difference</b>
  </span>
  <span> is that once word of this spreads every Great House in Mijak will view it as a declaration of war!” the Reverend Mother countered. “The Queen was a vicious bitch, but she had many allies…..”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“So do I.” Li-Illitur cut in.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Yes. Allies I worked hard and long to procure for you. Allies we will have to find an explanation for, when they ask why </span>
  <span>
    <em>they</em>
  </span>
  <span> were not allowed to partake in the eventual downfall of the House of Novak.” The Reverend Mother said. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Pointless politicking.” Li-Illitur muttered. “Nine times you have married me off and what has it done for us?”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Ha!” The Reverend Mother all but barked, her coarse grey hair dancing in the wind as she seemed to appear at Li-Illitur’s side and slapped her hard through the face. The blond woman’s face contorted itself into mask of fury and she pulled back her fist to retaliate.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>But the Reverend Mother was already standing well out of reach again, her eyes boring into Li-Illitur’s. “Pointless politicking is the only thing that saved our people from complete and utter ruin. Your grandmother thought she could declare war on Mijak and win. Our house was all but weeded out root and stem. If I had not been Truthsayer to the Old Queen our culture, our </span>
  <span>
    <em>people</em>
  </span>
  <span> would have vanished from this world. Or have you forgotten the sight of the rivers running red with our blood?”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I have not forgotten the disgraceful sight of my mother bending the knee.” Li-Illitur said. She had reinstalled herself on the throne and it was obvious that she was still fuming from being slapped. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Bending the knee before the Novaki Queen is the only worthy thing my Sister did in more than fifty years as ruler of our People. She unlike </span>
  <span>
    <em>you</em>
  </span>
  <span>…..understood the long game.” The black robed woman said harshly.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Long games. Short games. What does it matter? In one night I managed to do something no one has managed in two thousand years! Elspeth is dead. I killed her. And here I am. </span>
  <span>
    <b>I</b>
  </span>
  <span> am Queen now.” Li-Illitur said smugly, stroking the armrests of the throne slowly. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Queen of what? Queen of corpses? Of flies? Bones?” the Revered Mother mocked. “Yes you sit in a chair. A chair that was not built for you, at the heart of a city in ruin. But can you keep it?”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I have just added the Novaki army to my ranks. With our own soldiers I now command the largest army in all the world.” Li-Illitur said.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“And where is this fabulous army? Are they hiding in the drapes? Or are they thousands of miles away? Elspeth’s army is spread like manure over the map. They may yet mutiny once they find out their Queen is dead.” the Reverend Mother said. “There is a reason you were told to wait until </span>
  <span>
    <b>
      <em>after</em>
    </b>
  </span>
  <span> the war had broken out to make your move. The full force of our army could have stomped over the map and no one would have blinked twice! If you had managed to fuck a daughter out of the little prince so much the better. You would have been seen as a savior for shortening the Queen by a head. Now you are little more than a usurper.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>She paused with a groan. “We are far from the ocean here. How are you intending to hold this Palace? That chair you love so much? Your fleet of five hundred means nothing here. And moving an army in the dead of winter? Madness.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“So what is your solution?” Li-Illitur asked. “You obviously have one else you wouldn’t be here. If you thought it was truly a lost cause you would have left me to my fate. You’ve done a thorough enough job of erasing any trace of your lineage that no one would ever be the wiser.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“The new plan is the </span>
  <span>
    <em>old</em>
  </span>
  <span> plan.” The Reverend Mother said simply. “It is an advantage that no one knows what has happened here. We can keep the fate of House Novak a secret for the time being, and shape the truth to meet our ends when it does out. In the interim we will shore up your position within the Great Houses through an advantageous marriage.” </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Perhaps we can still salvage this. But it will be a miracle if we do.” The Reverend Mother finished sounding tired. “At your arrogance has finally ended the Novaki line.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“We hope.” Li-Illitur said under her breath.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“What?” The Reverend Mother said narrowing her eyes.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Castiel the little demon……” Li-Illitur said swigging the last of the wine and sending the cup flying. “We haven’t been able to locate his corpse.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“What does that mean?” The Reverend Mother asked acidly.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“He wasn’t in the Royal box during the nameday celebrations as he was supposed to be. And apparently he never made it to the Keep either.” Li-Illiture said a little awkwardly. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“So search the corpses?!” The Reverend Mother all but shouted.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Well there are rather a lot of them….” Li-Illitur said chuckling. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>All the shadows in the room seemed to thrum as the Reverend Mother rounded on her, her eyes storm grey. “You joke?”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“We are looking.” Li-Illitur said casually. “There are a few places in the Palace where he might be hiding. Secret places. And we’ve found several doors that have been sealed with Godspeaker magic. But we’ll get in eventually. Besides…the boy is almost certainly dead. And even if he’s </span>
  <span>
    <b>not</b>
  </span>
  <span>. What does it matter? It’s one little boy.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>She spoke as if she had tired of playing with this particular toy and was about to throw it away. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“One little boy who you – in one night – have made the only living heir of Mijak.” The Reverend Mother barked out through gritted teeth. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>She gathered her cloak and swirled. “I ride to the Citadel. Bobarak will know by now that something terrible has happened here. I will do what I can to assuage him…” she said. “</span>
  <span>
    <b>Find the </b>
  </span>
  <span>
    <b>
      <em>boy</em>
    </b>
  </span>
  <span>
    <b>!!!!</b>
  </span>
  <span> And when you do? I suggest you have Illistur resurrect him long enough for you to marry him.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>*     *     *</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Li-Illistur watched his Aunt’s retreating back with a sense of disdain. She had always been a trying woman. Always with her plotting and scheming. Heaving herself up out of her seat to go in search of more wine, she sauntered over to the window. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Where are you……</span>
  <span>
    <em>little </em>
  </span>
  <span>boy?”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0044"><h2>44. Building Bridges</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="normal">
  <span>The mid-morning air was cold enough that it burned his nose and throat as Dee-Ann clambered up onto a boulder to get a better vantage point. His breath was coming hard. He and Castiel had started walking at first light, but he still felt they had not gone as far as he would have liked. The road was getting steeper, and their progress was made more difficult by the fact that they could not use the Queen’s road. The fog had retreated slightly, but it was still difficult to see more than a few hundred feet ahead of them as they walked. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>With a grunt of effort, Dee-Ann pulled himself up onto a higher boulder. The outcropping of rock he was climbing was slick with patches of leafy green moss. And here and there pools of water reflected the silver sky like mirrors. He nodded to himself. If they could maintain their speed they would be in the Mountain Pass by moon rise. He scratched his fingers through his mop of hair as he tried to remember the path through the mountains. He remembered stretches where it had been perilously high. But that had been in a full caravan. Two he-brats on foot would have an easier time. The other problem was the road. It had been cut directly into the mountain. He did not know if there were any footpaths or secret ways they could use. Which meant that – for at least a small part of their journey – they would be completely exposed. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He squinted into the distance. The cobble stoned Queen’s road meandered like a snake through the valley. And he could see it split into two roads near the base of the mountain. Satisfied that he had learned as much as he could, he began the process of climbing down.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel was still sitting where he’d left him under a sapling tree, his back against the thin trunk. He looked tired, sipping delicately from a small water bladder which he quickly stowed away as he saw Dee-Ann approaching. Dee-Ann sighed. It had been a day and a night since he had scolded the Prince about his brother’s book. And it was clear that Dee-Ann’s words had cut him. They had said no more on the subject. But Castiel had taken to avoiding Dee-Ann’s gaze. In fact, other than the most perfunctory of interactions, Castiel had hardly said anything at all. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Tcha! Dee-Ann scoffed. He did not know why it bothered him that the Prince was still upset with him. It was not as if he owed him anything. And every word he had said was true. Though as he saw the mournful shadow fall over Castiel’s beautiful face as he approached, Dee-Ann could not help but feel sheepish.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“We are making good progress. We may even be able to reach the mountains a finger before lowsun. But we’ll have to push.” He said.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel nodded, heaving himself off the ground and adjusting the straps securing his pack around his shoulders. He had thrown back the hood of his cloak, and coiled his hair into one long braid down his back. Dee-Ann watched the heavy, snakelike motion of it as Castiel moved. Feeling self conscious, he tucked his own forelocks behind his ears. His hair was growing out steadily. It was almost long enough that he could gather it behind his head. But he missed his golden godbraids as he watched Castiel’s back. He missed the way the silver bells would sing the God’s glory every time he had moved. Shaking off the memory, he sniffed once through his nose and lengthened his stride to catch up to Castiel. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I saw the road splitting into a fork a few miles ahead.” He said more than asked. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel nodded. “To Et-Gheldaneth. It’s a small city, but it’s the only one other than Et-Novakar on this side of the Shield Wall. They mine silver in the mountains. And there’s a military outpost where Archers are trained. Mostly the city is built around a prison.” He said flatly. “Or so I’m told.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“You haven’t been there?” Dee-Ann asked. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I haven’t been anywhere.” Castiel added with a slight shrug of his shoulders. “Every step I take along this road takes me farther from home than I’ve ever been.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann looked at him. There was a vague sadness to his words. Like froth in sadsa. “How far is this place?” he asked ignoring the sadness. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“It’s right at the base of those mountains. We ought to be able to see the lights tonight when the Moon rises….” Castiel said pointing with his right hand. Dee-Ann followed where he was pointing and saw more mountains in the distance. “….so maybe a days ride?”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann scoffed his foot. If it had been any closer they could have tried to stock up their provisions before entering the Mountains. But no. It was too far. The snow would be upon them before they had made their way through if they left the road now. They would just have to make due.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>*</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>They fell into silence then. The only sound being their soft footfalls on the black, pebbled sand. Castiel had told him the earth was so dark because they were in an ancient volcano. He did not know this word. But he had not wanted to appear stupid in front of the Prince so he had not asked. As the day crept on towards highsun, Dee-Ann’s breath began spearing the air in puffs of white as he walked. It was getting colder. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>They stopped to rest when they came to a clear pool filled with drinkable water. Dee-Ann handed Castiel an apple, which he took but did not begin to eat. Instead he simply drank deep of the water, and neatly arranged himself so his legs were folded under him. Dee-Ann bristled. But did not say anything. After a short while, he nodded at Castiel and he stood up mutely as they resumed their journey. The rest of the day passed in much the same fashion. Eventually they passed the fork in the road. The Mountain was looming ever large in front of them, and the road began meandering ever more in the distance as the ground beneath their feet grew steeper. The moon was already peeking out from behind the horizon when they finally stopped for the night. Castiel busied himself digging in his pack for the folded up tent the Harrow woman had bought for them. After a rather disastrous hour the night before, he seemed to have a bit more of an idea how to assemble it now. He threw off his cloak and began hammering in the pegs which he also retrieved from the pack. For his part Dee-Ann made quick work of starting a fire. There was no way around it. There were no convenient caves here. And the night was bitter cold without the warmth of a fire. They had decided that it would be better to risk it, and sleep in shifts.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann allowed himself a languorous stretch as he settled himself next to the fire, tossing handfuls of dry grass onto the small flame to make it grow. He watched Castiel as he went about tightening the cord awkwardly around one of the corner pegs. The roof of the tent was sagging in the middle, and he seemed to be struggling with tying it off. If he wasn’t careful the whole thing would come down. He made to get up and help him. Castiel seemed to sense this because he shot Dee-Ann a warning look over his shoulder.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I’m doing it.” he said sharply as he strained to pull the cord tight. Dee-Ann held up his hands placatingly. Though he bristled as Castiel finally managed to pull the cord tight and tie it off. It still wasn’t perfect, but at least it didn’t look as if it was going to fall down in the night. Again.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>With a huff Castiel flung himself down next to the fire and pulled off his gloves, rubbing his palms where the cord had cut into them. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Enough of this now. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Castiel.” He began, unsure of exactly how to proceed. The Prince looked up at him and Dee-Ann froze. In the soft firelight his eyes were so blue they seemed almost to burn. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“About…what I said. Your brother’s book….” He began, but Castiel lifted a hand.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Think nothing of it.” he said dismissively. “I needed to hear it.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“You didn’t need to hear it like that.” Dee-Ann said softly.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“You were right.” Castiel said with a half shrug. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I was cruel.” Dee-Ann added quickly. “And I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The ghost of a smile blossomed on Castiel’s face, then faded. Neither of them said anything else for the next little while, but the silence did not seem so thick now. And Dee-Ann let him self relax a little. Strange one this Prince. There was something remote, and obscure about him. And Dee-Ann found he could almost never divine what he was thinking. He was good at schooling his face. Even during those times they had spent together in the Palace Castiel had been stoic and reserved. But now that he had the chance to observe him more closely Dee-Ann thought that </span>
  <span>
    <em>beneath</em>
  </span>
  <span> that layer of carefully cultivated silence, he could detect a deep reservoir of feeling. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Thank you. For saying that.” Castiel said softly. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I meant it.” Dee-Ann added. “It’s just……”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“What?” Castiel asked when Dee-Ann did not continue. “Tell me.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“</span>
  <span>
    <em>That</em>
  </span>
  <span> feeling. That longing you feel…..for people. For places?” he paused, waiting for Castiel to acknowledge that he understood before he continued. “I don’t know what that is. I’ve never felt it. For anyone. Every place I’ve ever left behind me. Every person….they floated away from me. Like a leaf carried away by a river current.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel nodded gravely. “Haven’t you ever loved anyone?” he asked. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I thought I did.” Dee-Ann said with a shrug. “Once.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“What happened?” Castiel asked.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann shook his head. “She betrayed me.” He said softly. He offered nothing more. And Castiel did not ask. Dee-Ann felt an old ache deep in his chest. Maeghara was something he tried never to think about. He did not want to think about her now. Instead he drove the conversation in a different direction.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“What are these stories your brother wrote?” he asked then. Castiel quirked him an odd little smile as if he could not quite believe what Dee-Ann was asking. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Oh Gabriel fashions himself quite the artist when it comes to the written word.” Castiel said with a wide smile. Then the smile hardened on his face. “Fashioned.” He said so softly Dee-Ann saw more than heard the word. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Show me.” Dee-Ann said. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Really?” Castiel asked narrowing his eyes suspiciously. But the smile had returned to his face and that was not nothing. Dee-Ann shrugged, eventually relenting his true purpose. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I need to practice my letters. I haven’t had any scrolls or tablets to read in months.” He confessed. “I worked so hard to learn them…..I am afraid if I do not practice I will forget them altogether.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He did not look at Castiel as he spoke this last, instead looking into the fire. He waited for Castiel to make a jape at him. But he did not. He chanced a look in his direction and found the Prince grinning. He rummaged in his cloak pockets for a bit before retrieving the small book which had caused so much trouble. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“We must have a story then.” He said excitedly. Instead of handing Dee-Ann the book as he had thought, Castiel patted the spot next to him. With a small sigh through his nose, Dee-Ann pushed himself up and shuffled over so he could sit next to the Prince. Castiel tossed his braid over his shoulder and leaned closer to Dee-Ann, moving until their knees were touching. The book, he balanced on both of their legs. Dee-Ann felt nervous. He did not want to appear foolish.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Go on.” Castiel said turning to the first page. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann leaned his head a little closer to the page. The writing was quite small. And though whoever had written it had a beautiful script, it was strange to Dee-Ann’s eye. With a deep breath he began.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Th-The…..Mis-” he said slowly, then stopped when he saw a word he did not recognize. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Sound it out.” Castiel said encouragingly. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“The Mis…..ad….ven…..The Mis-adventure…s….” Dee-Ann continued. He could feel his face was turning red. “Of…..”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Isaora.” Castiel put in. “It’s a name.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“The…slave….boy.” Dee-Ann finished. Aiiiieeeeee!!!!!! God. At this rate he would be an old man by the time he had finished the first page. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Good.” Castiel said with a nod. “Keep going.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>*</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Time passed. Dee-Ann spent it reading. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>His tongue was clumsy at first, and it was as if his brain was rusted. Too much time with no reading. But after the first hour or so it came a little easier. Castiel was patient and encouraging, always ready to jump in and help if Dee-Ann stumbled on a word. And he never once made him feel stupid for this not knowing. Dee-Ann appreciated that. In all, they only read five paged before Dee-Ann proclaimed he was tired and they put the book away. But Castiel praised him and promised they would read again the next night. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann dug the small pan out of his pack and broke off two dried sausages for each of them, from the spool of sausages he kept in there. He dug two fingers into the small clay jar full of calf fat, and deposited a small amount in the pan. When the fat had melted he cooked the sausages on the fire. Next to him – for they were still sitting quite close to one another – he could hear Castiel’s stomach grumble as the smell of the sausages filled the air. Dee-Ann did not comment on it. He was hungry as well. They had had nothing but one corn cake each that morning. A guilty something twisted itself inside Dee-Ann’s stomach. He did not think Castiel had ever known hunger. As it was, he had not complained. But Dee-Ann could see the impact the last few days of sleeping rough and eating only a little was having on him. He would keep his eyes open for mushrooms along the road next day. It was important to keep their strength up.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>They ate their sausages, and Dee-Ann poured them a cup of wine. Above them, the Godmoon painted the entire landscape the color of blood. It was not yet full. But it was visible through the patchy clouds.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Do you suppose its going to stay that way?” Castiel asked, looking up at the moon as well. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I don’t know.” Dee-Ann said honestly. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“We have to start making a plan. Once we’re through the mountains the nearest town is Calimshan. It’s a few days further North. But….” Castiel began. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“No.” Dee-Ann interrupted. “We go West, to Et-Haravelle.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Et-Haravelle?” Castiel asked looking shocked. “Do you…..We can’t walk all the way to Et-Haravelle…..do you have any idea where it even is?”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Better than you.” Dee-Ann said.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“It’s </span>
  <span>
    <b>hundreds</b>
  </span>
  <span> of miles away.” Castiel countered. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I know.” Dee-Ann added simply. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I……..” Castiel began then broke off. “We don’t have a horse! We don’t…..”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I </span>
  <span>
    <em>know</em>
  </span>
  <span>.” Dee-Ann said, still keeping his voice soft but firm. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel breathed an exasperated sigh. “Then why are you so determined to go there anyway?”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“The God saw me there once. It </span>
  <span>
    <em>will</em>
  </span>
  <span> see me again.” He said. “And everything in my body tells me that is where we are meant to go.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“The….the God.” Castiel repeated as if he wanted to confirm what Dee-Ann was actually saying. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“The God will provide for us. It will show us the way.” Dee-Ann said. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>For a moment Castiel looked incredulous. Then his eyes darkened with what could only be described as pure, unadulterated fury. “Is life really so fucking simple for you?” he asked smiling without humor.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I….” Dee-Ann began looking confused.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I’m hungry? The God will give me food.” Castiel said stabbing his finger at the sky. “I’m thirsty? </span>
  <span>
    <em>The God </em>
  </span>
  <span>will send me rain. I have to travel half way around the world without so much as a horse or two copper coins to rub together? </span>
  <span>
    <em>Weeeeeeeeell</em>
  </span>
  <span>…….” He stretched out the word. “The </span>
  <span>
    <em>God</em>
  </span>
  <span>…..” he sneered the word. “….will </span>
  <span>
    <b>somehow</b>
  </span>
  <span> show me the way.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann felt his blood boil. He did not like the way Castiel was speaking of the God. This was blasphemous. He was tempting the God to smiting even saying such things. But for the moment he did not want to get into another screaming match with Castiel. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Where was your God when my family was being slaughtered? Hmm? Where was your God when all those people raised their voices begging for mercy?” Castiel asked.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“The God </span>
  <span>
    <b>is</b>
  </span>
  <span> merciful!” Dee-Ann said before he could help himself. “The God saw me in that Village! And it saw me every step of the way until right here. Right now. Sitting with you. I am the God’s slave. I walk in its eye. I leap! I dance!” he continued fervently. “And you are chosen too! You do not wish to see that now. Because your heart bleeds with pain. But you are its chosen. I have seen it in you. I feel it now.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Chosen? Look around you.” Castiel said raising his arms and looking around, making a sweeping motion with his hands as if to encompass the entire area around them. “How can you still be so sure your God cares a whip about you?”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Maybe I simply ask less of it than you do.” Dee-Ann said.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I don’t believe that for a second.” Castiel said.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I know you are in pain Castiel…..” Dee-Ann said softly. “But times like these are when we should put our faith in the God the most.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel sneered. And his chest gave a dry heave of humorless laughter. “Faith? Ask the dead Godspeakers of Et-Novakar…what </span>
  <span>
    <em>faith</em>
  </span>
  <span> is worth in the face of a blade.” </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>They sat in silence for the next span of minutes. Neither of them wanted to continue the conversation. But it was still too early in the night for sleep. On impulse, Dee-Ann flipped back the lip of his backpack and dug out two more sausages. He was not overly hungry. But he wanted to busy his hands with something. And from the hunger in Castiel’s eyes, he thought it would go a long way as a peace offering. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“My mother’s best friend rules in Et-Haravelle. If she is still loyal…..if she honors the Blood pact they made….she may be able to advise me on my next move.” Castiel said after a while.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Loyal?” Dee-Ann asked. This was Warlord business. He did not know or understand much about politicking. Maeghara had never encouraged him to ask of such things.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Li-Illitur betrayed her treaty she had with my mother. But it is ludicrous to imagine she did it alone. Those warriors? The ones who besieged the Palace that night? Their armor was black but I saw some of their weapons. They were forged in the style of Mijaki weapons. And there were seals emblazoned on their breastplates.” Castiel said flatly.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“What does that mean?” Dee-Ann asked. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“It means there are plots afoot. And I intend to find them all out.” Castiel said.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“And when you do?” Dee-Ann asked.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I will avenge my family.” Castiel said in a voice like cold steel. “I will take back my city. And I will revenge myself on all those who brought this ruin and suffering upon me.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann scrubbed his hands through his hair. He did not want to point out that Castiel was a he-brat. What could one He-brat do? But at the same time, he felt the air seem almost to </span>
  <span>
    <em>thrum</em>
  </span>
  <span> with Castiel’s will. He believed every word he was saying. And there was something terrible in his voice. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Beautiful and fierce and terrible. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Like the feeling when his amulet had struck the witch. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>When the God’s power had flowed through him like water. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>That same power flowed through this Prince. Dee-Ann remembered the way his tattoos glowed. And the way he had set the very air on fire. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>So he nodded. And Castiel smiled. He did not understand everything that had happened in this moment. But Dee-Ann had the sense that some silent accord had been struck. And he smiled.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“These are good.” Castiel said with a chuckle when Dee-Ann passed him the sausage. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“They won’t last long. We’ll have to hunt.” Dee-Ann said. “Are you any good with a slingshot?”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I’ve never tried one.” Castiel said a little shyly. “Princes aren’t allowed weapons. Of any kind. We don’t hunt. We don’t….cook our own food.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“This I know…..” Dee-Ann said widening his eyes. “I remember the rabbit.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>At this they both chuckled. The night before Castiel had tried to roast the rabbit Dee-Ann had killed for them with the fur still on. Castiel leaned forward, delicately lifting his cup to his lips. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Do you know I speak five languages?” Castiel asked with a nod, widening his eyes along with his smile as Dee-Ann gaped at him. “Oh yes. Write them too. I was trained in calligraphy from the time I could walk. I know exactly how to bow and greet people from all stations. Even though I was never allowed to meet them.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Why?” Dee- Ann asked.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Why?” Castiel repeated almost ruefully. “I can name the principal rivers of every province of Mijak. Just don’t ask me to name </span>
  <span>
    <em>that</em>
  </span>
  <span> stream.” Castiel said pointing to a brook treacling out of the side of the mountain. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I can </span>
  <span>
    <em>embroider</em>
  </span>
  <span>. But I can’t </span>
  <span>
    <b>sew</b>
  </span>
  <span>.” He said shaking his head. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I know how to twist the meat out of a lobster, but I don’t </span>
  <span>
    <em>know</em>
  </span>
  <span> how to hunt for my own dinner!” he continued, his voice growing in volume now. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Light </span>
  <span>
    <em>blind</em>
  </span>
  <span> me I know how to lace up a </span>
  <span>
    <b>stomacher</b>
  </span>
  <span>!” He said twisting his mouth into a sneer. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“If a thing has a purpose? If a thing has a </span><span><em>function</em></span><span>?! If I might actually </span><span><b><em>do</em></b></span> <span>something with it? Then it </span><span><b>wasn’t</b></span><span> considered </span><span><b><em>SUITABLE!!!!!</em></b></span><span>” Castiel practically yelled. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Why you ask?” Castiel said, his voice returning to normal. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s because my mother never saw me as anything but a common whore she could trade and barter to the highest bidder…Did you know Li-Illitur and I are betrothed? Oh yes. My future wife is the woman who murdered my entire family. The only value I ever had for her was the cock dangling between my legs.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I know something of what it is to live your entire life at the whims of women.” Dee-Ann said bitterly. “If the God hadn’t given me the strength and the cunning to escape my circumstances…..I would have had a slave braid. The only woman I ever loved meant to make of me a concubine for your mother. I did not know this word but I understand it now. A concubine is just another kind of whore. The only value I ever had for her was the coin I would fetch when she sold me.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>They both shared a dry chuckle at that. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Well…don’t the pair of us whores make for a pretty picture.” Castiel asked with a chuckle</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I’ve seen worse.” Dee-Ann said. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel’s eyes grew distant for a moment. “You understand….once Li-Illitur determines that I am still alive…..she’ll be coming for me. This isn’t over. And the path ahead of me is dark and littered with things I cannot predict. If you stay with me you are placing yourself in considerable danger.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I wasn’t with you at the Palace. You were nowhere to be found when that Witch gave me the wound that nearly killed me. I saw something in that tent. And it terrified me.” Dee-Ann said honestly. “As long as that evil exists in the world….there is nowhere that is not dark and full of terrors.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel smiled widely and nodded. “I’ll take first watch?” he asked. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann shook his head. “Sleep. I’ll wake you when I get tired. It’s a long way to Et-Haravelle. You should take what rest you can.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Thank you.” Castiel said softly. He rose with his usual grace, turning on his heel and making his braid swish behind him. As he turned, Dee-Ann caught the faintest whiff of gooseberries from his hair and closed his eyes; breathing it in. He put more wood into the fire, gathering his cloak about his shoulders and hunkering down for his watch.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0045"><h2>45. Secrets and Smoke</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey there my lovelies! Happy yuletide, chrismukkah and Odin's day to you all! And a very happy and fortuitous new year!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel shuddered awake with a sharp gasp.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Pain. It was his first thought – like his last – that flashed through his mind. His chest heaved with breath that would not come fast enough. Slowly. Painfully. Awareness started seeping in. He was on his back. He was wet. No. Damp. His hair was soaked through with sweat. The air smelled of something sharp. Tangy and wrong. Like spoiled lacquer mixed with day-late asparagus. He wanted to gag; recognizing it for what it was. Fear. His fear. Mixed in with the feverish smell of his body. Sweat. His sweat.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>His throat was raw. Had he been vomiting? No. He’d been screaming. His eyes were bloated and stingy from pumping out too many tears in too short a time. He shuddered, her mind completely refusing to piece together the last few hours. He knew they had passed by the blissful pallor in the tent. The night was gone. With an effort, he rotated his head. There was a hand on his elbow. Long, slender fingers attached to a wrist, then a sleeve that continued on to a strong bicep, that eventually joined to a set of wide shoulders currently hunched around a pair of crouching knees. And in the midst of all this, hovered a face. Liquid green eyes stretched wide in surprise hung suspended over the familiarly chiseled nose – his nostrils flaring around the motion of his own breathing – underneath which a set of beestung lips were pulled into a hard line.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>For a moment, Castiel could not quite make sense of what was happening. He made to push himself up onto his arms, but stopped when Dee-Ann </span> <span> <em>flinched</em> </span> <span>.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Wha-?” he asked. But his mind was still a jumble of half formed images and emotions just beyond his reach.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“You were screaming.” Dee-Ann said still looking apprehensive. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I-I…..I’m sorry….” Castiel stuttered out thickly, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“It’s not the first time.” Dee-Ann said. “What were you dreaming about?”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>This had happened before? Castiel frowned. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“I don’t remember….” He said around a sigh. “I </span> <span> <em>don’t</em> </span> <span>.” he added seeing the dubious look flash over Dee-Ann’s face. “Was I </span> <span> <b>saying</b> </span> <span> anything?” </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Not that I heard. I was outside when I heard you.” Dee-Ann said.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I’m sorry.” Castiel said pushing himself slowly up onto his elbow. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I am not afraid.” Dee-Ann said sharply. “But that didn’t seem like a normal dream.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Just a nightmare I assure you.” Castiel said, but even to him it sounded thin. He had had night terrors before. But it had been years. He didn’t say it, but somehow he felt as if Dee-Ann already knew. The last time he’d had dreams of this…..kind….he’d seen the fall of Et-Novakar. He sniffed, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. He did not much feel like delving any deeper into the subject of his dreams. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>It had happened like this before. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>First the terror. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Then the visions. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He cursed as he clawed his infernal hair out off his face where it stuck to him. If he was still in the Palace he could simply have rung the bell and asked a slave to bring him a sleeping tonic. But here in the back end of beyond, there would be no such escape. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>Annoyed with himself now, he got to his feet and stepped out of the tent, stretching his back as best he could. He longed for a proper bath. His muscles were sore. And his body ached powerfully. He was unaccustomed to so much exercise and so little food. He was bone tired. But more than anything he was weary. Weary of the pain in his feet. Weary of feeling so out of depth. Of having nothing familiar. The landscape was strange to him. He’d glimpsed these mountains all his life. But somehow he’d never imagined they were so tall. Just like the roads. He’d wallpapered his study with maps and charts. How had he failed to realize those little winding strands of color were real. Real roads. Leading to real places. Where </span> <span> <em>real</em> </span> <span> people lived. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>To say that he had found the entire experience of leaving the Palace and everything that had followed to be…..overwhelming…..would not quite manage to cover it. The city had been an experience in and of itself. But at least it had been familiar. Having now left the last vestige of anything he knew or understood?</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>It was all so </span> <span> <b> <em>big</em> </b> </span> <span>. So wide. So…….</span> <span> <em>much</em> </span> <span>!</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>He scoffed as he remembered the hours he’d spent practicing the perfect way to twirl and toss and catch a fan. Moving his wrists just </span> <span> <em>so</em> </span> <span> to all but hypnotize the viewer. He sneered. Who would hold a fan here? Why would they want to?</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He thought he had probably learned more in the last few weeks than he had in his entire life. Dee-Ann had showed him how to dig for moss they could use to build a fire. He wasn’t very skilled yet, but he was improving. He could make fire now, even without needing to rely on his powers. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He had been the one tether throughout all of this madness that Castiel could hold on to. He sighed. As a traveling companion, Dee-Ann was capricious to say the least. He was prone to emotional fits that Castiel was not used to. He reminded Castiel of a child in some ways. Whatever emotion he was feeling ruled his mind entirely. When he was happy it was like a halo of light and rainbows shining from his smile. When he was sad it was like a lead shawl draped over the world. And when he was angry……he could kick up a storm to rival that which shaped the newborn world. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>There was something primal in that. Raw and untamed. Castiel could not decide if he pitied him, or if he wanted this quality for himself. He could hardly imagine what it must be like to command such…..</span> <span> <em>passion</em> </span> <span>. And what would happen if that passion were ever fully unleashed…..</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He huffed an annoyed breath at himself as he upended his water bladder over his head and shook the icy water through the length of his braid. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>That entire line of thinking was far too dangerous to entertain for even a moment. Dee-Ann was beautiful and fierce and passionate. But lusting after him would do Castiel no favors. He had already admitted that he had once given his heart to a woman. He’d heard it from the man’s own mouth, clear as day. Dee-Ann desired </span> <span> <em>women</em> </span> <span>. Not men. Castiel was a </span> <span> <b>man</b> </span> <span>. That was the end of it. He chastised himself for a fool and a selfish ass as he remembered that night around the fire. Castiel had sat listening to Dee-Ann’s story of unrequited love, carefully keeping his bitter disappointment from showing through on his face. Dee-Ann had been baring his soul about real pain in his past and all Castiel could think was of his own selfish wants being dashed to the wind. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>He sighed, allowing his eyes to fall closed. He let himself feel sorry for himself for exactly five breaths, before composing himself. The cold water had helped. But not nearly enough. Traveling in such close proximity to Dee-Ann – despite all its advantages – also came with a certain number of pitfalls Castiel could </span> <span> <em>not</em> </span> <span> ignore. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>Being around such potent masculine beauty was diverting to say the least. It was if he didn’t even realize how achingly beautiful he was. His lean frame, the supple grace of his movements. Even the way he was always so </span> <span> <em>sure</em> </span> <span> and determined in his unwavering faith in the God. Night times were the most difficult. And yet Castiel found himself looking forward to them all day.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>When the fire had been lit, and they’d eaten what meager meal they could. And Dee-Ann – having grown bolder now in the days since they had begun this tradition – would plop down right next to Castiel and they would read together. His reading was still more than a little clumsy, but he was determined to learn and Castiel was equally committed to helping him. But he could not ignore the heat of Dee-Ann’s body so close to him. The gentle press of their knees together. The odd bump of his shoulder. The curve of his beautiful neck when he leaned forward. Or the way the corner of his mouth would quirk when he was chewing on a difficult or unrecognized word.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>It was a shameful thing, but Castiel always moved until they were </span> <span> <em>close</em> </span> <span>. Close enough to feel the rumble of his laughter. Or the way his shoulders tensed when he made a mistake. It was torture to be sure. But of the sweetest kind Castiel could imagine. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>The </span> <span> <em>other</em> </span> <span> problem was that they were </span> <span> <b>constantly</b> </span> <span> in each other’s company. Save for having to relieve himself, Castiel was never alone. And if he was gone too long at that, Dee-Ann would come looking for him. It was necessary and correct he knew. But such proximity left him with little to no opportunity to </span> <span> <em>relieve</em> </span> <span> himself of some of the tension Dee-Ann was unwittingly causing inside him.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He’d barely played with his cock twice since leaving the city. And he was growing restless. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>*     *      *</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>The narrow pass that had been cut through the mountains around Et-Novakar was a foreboding corridor. Walled in on either side by towering black rock, the pass itself was barely wide enough for two women to walk abreast with their arms outstretched. A wide carriage or wagon would all but scrape the walls. Castiel vaguely remembered Johdilia referring to the Pass as the </span> <span> <em>Thief’s Doom</em> </span> <span>. But he had never understood why until now. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>They had walked until the moon hung blood red above them the night before. Much later than they would usually have made camp, but they risked it. This close to the mouth of the Mountains there were very few places to hide. And it was still proper night when Dee-Ann woke Castiel so they could set off. These first few miles into the mountains would be the most dangerous stretch of the journey since they had effected their escape from the city. There was absolutely no hiding. And nowhere to run. If any travelers were coming up the Pass, they would be seen. This was something Castiel wanted to avoid at all costs. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He had lain awake the night before, trying to think of plausible explanations why two young men would be traveling together, on foot no less; with no chaperone and no horses or carriages. It was an uncommon sight to say the least. Uncommon enough to be the kind of thing a woman might remember. The kind of thing she might relate to other women in taverns and brothels. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>It would only take a cunning listener to grow such a seed into a profitable orchard. And if he knew Li-Illitur – as strangely he felt he did – she would have already bribed every spy, cutpurse and hired knife in the city to mine the lowest echelons for just such whispered rumors and gossip. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>So they ran.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>By the time the first pale sun threatened to peek through the clouds, Castiel’s tunic and leggings were already sticking to his skin and sweat was dribbling down his neck from under his braid. His cloak swished and pooled around him, but thankfully his pack was silent. Dee-Ann had helped him pack and repack it a few nights ago to stop the contents clanging and shifting as they moved. His footfalls were soft in his leather boots. And – not for the first time – he blessed the Harrowspex for convincing him to pay the extra money for such high quality leather. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>A little ahead of him, Dee-Ann moved like a jungle cat. Castiel could just glimpse the cyclical rhythm of his powerful legs beneath the folds of his own cloak as he ran. Despite their earnest, Castiel could not help but appreciate the tightness of the leggings and the way Dee-Ann’s boots showed off his calves. His legs had a slight curve to them. Which only naturally drew the eye upwards towards…..</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Shit!” he hissed as his toe collided with an unseen stone and he nearly sprawled flat on his face. He managed to catch himself against the wall, panting hard as he flexed his toes inside the boot to make sure nothing was broken. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“What happened?” Dee-Ann asked suddenly next to him, his breath coming hard as well. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Nothing I just…..I wasn’t looking.” Castiel huffed out between two hard breaths. His chest was like fire.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“We can’t stop.” Dee-Ann said. “I’m sorry. We still have at least two fingers before newsun. We have to be in the open by then.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel nodded quickly. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. I just need a….I just need a moment.” </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“The pass slopes up until </span> <span> <em>that</em> </span> <span> ridge….” Dee-Ann panted gently, gesturing with his hand as he spoke. “…Then down until we reach the valley where my caravan was snowed in. It sits in the heart of the mountains. Beyond that….”</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“The spine. I know.” Castiel said. “A series of ridges and crannies in between. I’ve heard of them.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“They’ll slow us down. But we may have an easier time on foot than on a horse.” Dee-Ann said forcing a smile. Castiel returned it. They stood there for a half a minute more, both panting and sweating. Castiel tilted his head back against the cold stone. The moment he felt the faint rumble against his head and shoulders, he looked sharply into Dee-Ann’s eyes. He looked equally concerned suddenly, pressing his chest against the stone and leaning his cheek there.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Hoof beats.” He whispered.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>And what that all exhaustion was forgotten, and they tore off up the sloping Pass as if the hounds of hell were nipping at their heels. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>*     *     *</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>Castiel did not know how long or how far they ran. Once they had raced up the mile – or so – they’d had ahead of them at the point where he’d stumbled, until they crested the ridge; it was infinitely easier going now that they were running </span> <span> <em>downhill</em> </span> <span> instead of fighting their way up. At the very top, he had dared to look over his shoulder. The sun was starting to rise now.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span> <em>There!</em> </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>At the bottom of the incline. They were little more than spots for the moment, but Castiel could </span> <span> <em>just</em> </span> <span> discern horses….and a carriage drawn behind them. It made no sense! How were they even here? Where had they </span> <span> <b>come</b> </span> <span> from? They would have had to have been riding through the night to have reached the Shield Wall this early in the day. Even if they’d come from Et-Gheldaneth they ought not to have reached here until mid-day.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>As they ran he voiced his concerns to Dee-Ann.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“They must be whipping the horses bloody to be traveling with this much speed.” He panted never missing a step in his running. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“No.” Dee-Ann said slowing to match his pace to Castiel’s. “There’s something….I don’t know how to say….Something’s not </span> <span> <em>right</em> </span> <span>.”</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel frowned at him. He didn’t quite catch what Dee-Ann meant, but it wasn’t important right now. What mattered was that they needed to put as much distance between them and that carriage as possible. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He panted as the pass beneath their feet began winding serpent like to accommodate for the steepness of the mountain. His knees were killing him from running at such an awkward angle and he had to concentrate not to trip on his cloak as he continued to sprint. A powerful wind had kicked up out of nowhere, showering them with dust, small rocks and bits of debris. Castiel gasped as he inhaled a mouthful of dust. This wind made no sense. Yet it was powerful enough to send his braid flying over his shoulder to slap heavily against his stomach. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“This is not normal wind.” Dee-Ann said loudly, pausing a moment to wait for Castiel. Dee-Ann was a natural runner, and Castiel could not match his speed. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“How can you tell?” Castiel asked, stopping next to him. Dee-Ann was frowning up at the mountain looking somewhere between suspicious and confused.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Can’t you hear it?” he asked pushing his hair away from his face. “The voice.” He prodded. “There’s a voice. Like an echo Or…..” he trailed off, seeming to struggle to try and find the right word. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“A voice in the wind?” Castiel repeated softly. He couldn’t hear anything. But that didn’t matter. Dee-Ann was convinced he </span> <span> <em>could</em> </span> <span>. And Castiel was in no mood to argue. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>He pondered it for a moment. If Dee-Ann </span> <span> <em>was</em> </span> <span> sensing something or </span> <span> <em>perceiving</em> </span> <span> something…..that could only mean…</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Magic.” Castiel whispered. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“What?” Dee-Ann asked. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“This wind. It’s being created by magic. Someone is conjuring it. Someone powerful.” He said. “It’s the only explanation for how that carriage is moving so fast. Some dark power is aiding it.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“Is such a thing even possible?” Dee-Ann asked looking bewildered. Castiel wanted to point out some of the things Dee-Ann had seen </span> <span> <em>him</em> </span> <span> do. But this was not the time. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“We’ve got to keep moving.” Castiel said. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“No. The voice is growing louder. Here.” He said taking Castiel’s hand and pressing it against the side of the Pass. The rumbling he had felt so faintly was much harder now. His hand fairly shook.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“What do we do?” Castiel asked panicked. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I……I have a plan.” Dee-Ann said shakily, taking hold of his hand and pulling him along with him.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>*</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>They ran a little further down the Pass to where a wider circle had been cut into the stone. They had passed several such areas on their way. These were places where carriages or wagons might turn around and go back the way they came should the Pass – for whatever reason – be impassable. Dee-Ann put a finger to his lips indicating a desire for silence, and Castiel nodded. His entire body was shaking. He could hear the hoof beats now. The carriage had crested the ridge. Blink twice more and it would be upon them. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>Dee-Ann dug his hand into the top of his tunic and pulled out his Scorpion amulet. He was whispering. Muttering indecipherably to himself and holding the amulet in the palm of his hand, looking deep into its center. Castiel was about to say something when he saw a faint </span> <span> <em>shimmer</em> </span> <span> pass over the amulet. It was quick and nearly undetectable he might have thought it was a trick of the light. But somehow, he knew it was not. The air in the little turning point seemed suddenly </span> <span> <em>charged</em> </span> <span>. The way it felt before a thunder storm. He swallowed down the sweet-sick taste of iron that had appeared in the back of his throat. He recognized it as the same one which usually appeared after an extensive use of his </span> <span> <em>power</em> </span> <span>. But this was different. Familiar and yet totally foreign. Like a new dish cooked with familiar ingredients. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>And when Dee-Ann turned to him, Castiel shuddered.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>His eyes glowed were grey-green and terrible. They froze Castiel where he stood as they focused on him, making him fight the urge to visibly cringe. He locked his jaw, feeling a wave of fear, unbridled and undiluted rise up in him as they stared at each other. He had </span> <span> <em>seen</em> </span> <span> this. He had </span> <span> <em>felt</em> </span> <span> this before. In the temple when he had overseen sacrifice. In the sacred courts when Criminals were sentenced. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>This was </span> <span> <em>Godsmite</em> </span> <span>.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He was sure of it. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>But….how?</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>It was impossible.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann was no Godspeaker?</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>All thought fled his mind as Dee-Ann stepped closer. His movement was rigid. Stunted. As if he were a clay figure being marched along by a child’s hand. He moved until he was all but pressed up against Castiel; leaning him against the stone wall and placing his hands on either side of Castiel’s body. He stepped forward until his feet were between Castiel’s, and every inch of their bodies were touching, before leaning his head forward to speak into Castiel’s ear. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“</span> <span> <b> <em>Stay….</em> </b> </span> <span>” He whispered in a voice Castiel did not recognize. “</span> <span> <b> <em>….still</em> </b> </span> <span>.”</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>Castiel </span> <span> <em>felt</em> </span> <span> Dee-Ann take a deep breath. His nose was pressed against the skin of Castiel’s neck, and the feeling of having Dee-Ann practically inhaling him sent a shiver of goose flesh over him. Dee-Ann held the breath for a long moment, before </span> <span> <em>exhaling</em> </span> <span> slowly and lightly. Thin grey-green smoke dribbled out from his lips and nose. It danced over Castiel’s skin making him tremble. He thought for a moment he might fall, steadying himself by placing his hands on Dee-Ann’s shoulders. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He had seen Godbreath before. But he had never imagined he would ever get this close to it. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>It frothed and tumbled over their skin, their clothes, and continued until it the air in the little turning point became muddled and murky. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Somehow in the midst of all this, Castiel awoke to the realization of just how close he and Dee-Ann were standing. They were literally pressed up against one another. Chest to chest. Heart to heart. Like dancers.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Or lovers.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Yes. This was how lovers stood. How lovers touched.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>It would be the simplest thing in the world to turn his head. A scant few inches and they would be kissing. He knew he was being ridiculous. But suddenly he could not escape the deliciousness of literally being in Dee-Ann’s arms, with his body against his. His nose was filled with the smell of his skin. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>                  Like spiced meat. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>                          Or freshly baked bread. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>                                    Cooling pie crust. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>                                             Fresh cut apples. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>His heart thrummed in his chest. And his skin sizzled with every breath Dee-Ann took, his nose still pressed right against his neck. Unconsciously, he let his left hand fall from Dee-Ann’s shoulder, instead bringing it around his slender waist and – softly – pulling his chest even closer. His right hand, he left on Dee-Ann’s shoulder. And without needing to check, somehow; he knew his fingers were perfectly aligned with Dee-Ann’s scar. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>In his leggings Castiel’s cock was so hard it may as well have been carved from stone just then – if he’d been himself Dee-Ann would surely have felt it – but he did not care. There was something here that was more than…..cocks and touching. Something slippery and elusive. Like the fragment of a dream half forgotten upon waking. Keenly felt but….difficult to perceive. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>He was shaken from his reverie when the hoof beats were suddenly deafening and the carriage was just </span> <span> <em>there</em> </span> <span>. A team of four horses drew the carriage. They were different colors, but all seemed to be exquisite examples of some powerful breed Castiel did not recognize. The woman driving them was dressed in Novaki armor, though she had the visor of her helmet drawn low over her face to hide her features. The carriage, was a sinister thing carved of dark wood. There were no decorations on it. And no coat of arms was worked into the door. To Castiel it looked more like some kind of coffin than anything meant to transport humans. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>They roared into the turning point and for a moment it seemed as if they would continue straight through.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>That was when he heard it. A sharp knocking from within the carriage. The driver pulled heavily on the reigns and horses whinnied to a stop. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel’s chest was gripped with panic. This was the moment. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>*</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The driver opened the door of the carriage, and from within emerged the skeletal, hawk nosed head of The Reverend Mother Ravenna Duaiv Mac-Leire. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>She looked around suspiciously, before a walking stick emerge from within the carriage and she stepped out. He oily black robes pooled around her like smoke. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Wha’ is it mah lady?” the driver graveled out in a voice that spoke of cigars and cheap spirits. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Quiet you fool.” She barked, still surveying her surroundings. “I thought I sensed……”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>She pushed the driver out of the way, then took two steps forward. She closed her eyes for a moment, before banging her walking stick </span> <span> <em>hard</em> </span> <span> on the stone floor. The impact was infused with </span> <span> <em>power</em> </span> <span>, and seemed to ricochet off the walls and sending a reverberating echo through the Pass.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Strange……” she whispered to herself making a slow turn as she looked around.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>*</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel fought the urge to snarl. Poisonous old spider. His body was pumping out sweat, and his heart was beating so fast he was surprised she could not hear it. He had nearly screamed when she had slammed her staff down on the ground. He had started. But Dee-Ann’s body seemed to have turned to stone against him.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The waiting moments were pregnant with fear as the old bitch took her time looking at every inch of the turning point.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>Castiel felt as if his skin was doused with ice water when she paused. She was looking </span> <span> <em>right</em> </span> <span> at him. Right in his eyes.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Or would have been.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>If she could see him. See them.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>For it was clear now that </span> <span> <em>whatever</em> </span> <span> Dee-Ann was doing, it was hiding them from sight. As the moments dragged on, Castiel could detect the slightest trembling passing through Dee-Ann’s body. And looking at his face, he realized he was straining. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel panicked. If the veil he was covering them in lifted now………</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Acting on instinct, he brought his left hand to Dee-Ann’s cheek; gripping his shoulder tighter with his right. And centering himself with a breath; began feeding power into his tattoos and letting it pour into Dee-Ann; as he had that night at Misoorayah’s house when he had laid dying. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The effect is instantaneous. Dee-Ann’s trembling ceased, and a fresh dribble of grey green smoke escape from his lips with every breath.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The Reverend Mother gave one final sneer before turning and climbing back into the carriage. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Cast the charms Chalice. I would be rid of this place.” She said settling herself. Another voice from inside the carriage began intoning something in a language Castiel did not recognize. And in the time it took for the driver to resume her seat, the unnatural tailwind had kicked up again. The carriage blasted out of sight and down the Pass.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>No sooner had they gone than Dee-Ann’s body went limp against him and promptly collapsed. Had he not been holding him, Castiel was sure he would have injured himself. He awkwardly maneuvered him onto his back and checked his breathing. He shook him until eventually he opened his eyes wearily. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>"Dee-Ann!” Castiel gasped. Dee-Ann gave a grumble as if he’d been sleeping and now Castiel was bothering him.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Are they gone?” he groaned.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Here.” Castiel said reaching for a bladder of wine and pouring some into Dee-Ann’s mouth. He choked, then sputtered, then accepted another sip. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“What </span> <span> <em>was</em> </span> <span> that?” Castiel asked once Dee-Ann was strong enough to sit up. “How did you do that?”</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“The God…..the God his us in its Eye.” Dee-Ann said softly, patting his chest where the Scorpion amulet lay. Castiel looked at him warily. He had done a fair bit of reading about Godspeakers and their strange abilities. It was unbelievably dangerous for the unordained to mess with Godsmite. Novitiate Godspeakers trained for years before they were allowed to use it unsupervised. And even then, they first had to earn their sacred spell tattoos to help them guide their power; and always with the aid of a Godstone. Castiel remembered from the Palace, how even some seasoned Godspeakers were weary to use it in excess.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>What he had just seen ought to have been utterly impossible.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>And yet……..</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He would have to think on this later. This was important. He did not know how. But he could feel in his marrow that it was. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>But now was not the time. They were still out in the open. And from the state of Dee-Ann, Castiel doubted he would be repeating that particular trick anytime soon. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Drink.” Castiel said. “We have to get going. We can rest once we reach the valley.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann nodded wearily but did not speak.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Thank you.” Castiel said. “It’s quite possible you just saved our lives.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Tcha! The God saved our lives. I am still in your debt for a life.” Dee-Ann said tartly, but Castiel was glad for it. If he had the energy to be an ass, that meant he was feeling better. “That woman. Who was she?”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“She’s a Truthsayer. A Reverend Mother.” Castiel said suspiciously. “That driver was wearing Novaki livery. And those were War Horses. She came from the City. Even though the gates are locked.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“What does that mean?” Dee-Ann asked. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“The plot. Thickening.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I know! I know! Cas is a little bit of a perv. But come on! He's a teenager. And that is some fine man meat being paraded right there in front of him!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0046"><h2>46. Closer and closer</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="normal">
  <span>The “valley” as they had been calling it, was really just a natural depression between two higher peaks in the range of mountains that made up the Shield Wall. Castiel imagined it might have been beautiful in summer, when the leaves were green and there were more animals about. As it was currently, the black sand and bare rock was broken up only by small patches of brown and grey trees – all leafless – and a few patches of wind dried grass. Some birds he could not name circled lazily overhead. No doubt looking for small animals they could scoop up, or possibly ones that had been crushed under the wheels of caravans and carriages. The much lighter stones that made up the Queen’s Road cut through the center of the valley sharply, barely turning except where the terrain was too steep.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>To the side of the valley, he could see a waterfall – swiftly freezing – flowing out of the mountains beyond. It fed into a slender, inky stream that vanished into the basin of the valley. It was to this waterfall that they headed. After the excitement of the carriage, Dee-Ann’s display and the Reverend Mother; the journey the rest of the way down into the valley had seemed positively prosaic. Castiel had been mindful not to set too taxing a pace, as Dee-Ann was still much weakened by his….</span> <span> <em>interaction</em> </span> <span>….at the turning point. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>They had walked mostly in silence until they were seated on the bank of the stream. Dee-Ann sagged gratefully onto the mossy earth, and Castiel busied himself unpacking the things they would need for dinner. Now that they were close to it, he could see that the waterfall was much larger than he had anticipated, and what he had taken to be a pool that it poured into was closer to a cavern surrounded by quite high outcroppings of craggy stone. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I’m going to take a look at the waterfall.” He announced with a small grunt as he pushed himself up, shucking his cloak gratefully and flicking his braid over his shoulder. “If there’s a sufficiently large cave behind it, I vote that’s where we set up for the night.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>It was a mark of how fatigued he was that Dee-Ann simply nodded his ascent. Castiel clambered a little clumsily over the rocks surrounding the pool, before crouching low and all but scooting down. The rocks were slippery with moss, and loose in places as he went. More than once, his hand or foot found a wobbly stone and twice he had to fall flat on his ass to stop himself toppling over. The air was damp from the chilly spray as he got closer, but he didn’t mind. If anything it was inviting. No sooner had he made it down to the surface of the water, than his mind was made up. He perched himself on a rock and undid the laces on the inside of his leg, pulling off first his right boot, then his left. He gagged at the smell released once his feet were freed; wiggling his toes painfully in his slimy stockings. Next he began methodically undoing the laces of his tunic. It was a great quilted thing which was thick and warm, but not made for the kind of physical activity he had been engaging in. The wide sleeves which synched at his elbows peeled off with some effort, leaving him in his leggings, and a smocked undershirt. His leggings were laced on both hips and were cumbersome at the best of times to undo quickly. The black leather was showing signs of dust and damp. And they, like everything else; wanted a good washing. Finally divested of his trousers, Castiel undid the garter securing his stockings above each knee, peeling them off quickly. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>He gasped at the sight of his feet. Red and swollen, he stopped counting blisters once he reached ten. No wonder his feet had been protesting so loudly. The bare stone was…</span> <span> <em>interesting</em> </span> <span>….beneath his naked buttocks as he dangled his aching feet into the water. It was cold enough to make him gasp, but felt ambrosious against his skin. Sitting in just his undershirt, he tugged on the tight cord he’d knotted at the end of his braid. His hair was oily and stiff with sweat. He didn’t have any kind of comb with him, but it was still a relief to drag his fingers along the length of it once he’d managed to the braid he’d made. Looking around, quickly pulled his undershirt over his head and dove beneath the surface of the water. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>For a moment, his chest screamed as the cold enveloped him. He gave two powerful kicks before his head broke the surface. With a gasp, he slopped a thick handful of hair out of his face. It felt glorious to be so immersed in the water. He swam for a few minutes, he did not know how many; before making good on his promise and swimming over to the waterfall. A heavy curtain of water fell musically in front of him. He waded into it. There was a solid wall of rock immediately behind it. But a little further up, he could see the mouth of a cave. Moving out of the deluge of water, he climbed up the side of the waterfall. The rocks were slick, but he managed to hold fast, his waterlogged hair sticking to his back and thighs as he went. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The cave was not overly large, but he could stand in it comfortably without having to stoop. And it was wide enough that he could stretch out his arms without touching the walls. With a small infusion of will, his tattoos lit up enough to illuminate the back of the cave. It was deeper than he had expected, and he was pleased to discover that no more than six paces in, it was completely dry. It would make a very nice hiding place indeed for them for the night. He shivered a little, gathering his hair in both hands and coiling it into a wrist thick snake to wring some of the water out. Deciding that he was sufficiently hidden by the fallen water, Castiel let more of his power bleed into his tattoos. His skin steamed as the water clinging to it evaporated, and he scrubbed his palms over his goose pimpled chest to coax more heat into himself. His hands brushed along the length of his arms, over his stomach and into his hair. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>He felt it the moment the tone of his hands on himself…changed. No longer touching for warmth, he let his right hand find his left nipple – which already stood at a peak – while the fingertips of his left hand trailed along the flat plane of his stomach and into the tuft of hair above his cock. His skin </span> <span> <em>sang</em> </span> <span> at the attention, and his silken cock was only too happy to respond to the delicious sensation of having fingertips tease his foreskin back from the head and the pad of a thumb pressed delicately into his slit. Castiel allowed himself a soft moan as his right hand replaced his left on his cock, moving his free hand down to fondle his stones. Bolder now, he sat down on the floor of the cave, leaning his back against the wall and extending his legs in front of him so he could point his toes and allow himself better access. His eyes fell closed and his breathing became more rapid as he slid the sensitive skin again and again over the head of his cock. It had been too long. This would be over soon.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Behind closed eyes his mind conjured images of strong thighs, golden hair and green, green eyes. He knows it’s wrong. Knows it’s unfair. Forbidden even. He shouldn’t be thinking this way. But inside the secrecy of his own mind, he can let his imagination roam free. He can admit to himself what he would never say out loud. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>In his mind, Dee-Ann was there. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He imagined the beautiful face twisted expression on the brink of agony or ecstasy. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Those beautiful slender fingers twisted in his hair while he moaned out Castiel’s name. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel moaned as he imagined Dee-Ann’s weight on top of him as he plundered him. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Driving his cock deep into Castiel hard enough to bruise……</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>With a ragged, stuttered gasp……..it’s over. All the world vanishes into a flash of blinding light, his cock the center of the universe as he explodes! Castiel’s entire torso is wracked with little shakes as he spills his seed onto his chest and hands. Every muscle momentarily tightens, before a slow haze of golden relaxation pours through him like hot honey.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Still breathing hard, Castiel allowed himself a few more moments to lay there and simply enjoy the feeling of being unknotted. His ears were still buzzing as he stood up and – feeling a little sheepish – walked back to the mouth of the cave. He knew the water would feel very cold against his dry skin now, but he didn’t care. He’d been gone too long and he wanted to make sure Dee-Ann was alright. Steeling himself with a breath, he leapt through the curtain of falling water and into the pool waiting below. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>As predicted, the icy water made him gasp as he swam back to the surface, making sure to scrub his seed off his stomach and hands as he went. No sooner had his head broken the surface than he became aware of the feeling of eyes on him. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>Instantly alert, he looked around quickly. How could he have been so </span> <span> <em>stupid?!</em> </span> <span> He was completely vulnerable. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“There you are!” Dee-Ann called from a little ways up the cavern. He was looking down at Castiel with his head quirked a little to the side. Castiel smiled up at him. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I couldn’t resist.” He called up at him. There was something obscene about Dee-Ann standing there fully clothed and Castiel naked in the water. And thrilling. The thought that Dee-Ann was looking. Was seeing. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“There’s a really good cave behind the waterfall. We can definitely stay there tonight.” Castiel called up at him. Dee-Ann’s eyes roamed a little, and Castiel wondered how much he’d seen when he’d jumped through the waterfall into the pool.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>‘</span> <span> <em>Do you know</em> </span> <span>?’ Castiel thought to himself with a smirk. ‘</span> <span> <em>Do you know you were just fucking me? Do you know I came in your mouth?</em> </span> <span>’</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>They looked at one another for a moment. Neither of them spoke. And for a horrifying instinct Castiel began to wonder if Dee-Ann actually </span> <span> <b>did</b> </span> <span> know something was amok. But then he turned and began climbing back up.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Get dressed!” Dee-Ann called. “I have a fire started. We can move our things over later.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>*</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann still looked a little worse for wear, and it was Castiel who all but ordered him to rest while he gathered a few supplies. Whatever it was that he had done back at the turning point, it was obvious that it had exerted him greatly. And despite his protests, what Dee-Ann needed was food, drink and rest. All thoughts that they might continue on through the mountains that day were promptly dismissed by the pallor of Dee-Ann’s face. Castiel put more wood on the fire, and covered Dee-Ann in his cloak.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Sleep now. I’m going to see what else there is to find.” Castiel said softly.  For a moment, Dee-Ann looked like he wanted to protest, but Castiel would have none of it. He pulled Dee-Ann’s hood low over his eyes. He filled the small iron pot from his pack with water from the pool, and set it over the fire to boil. He tossed in a handful of the potatoes from Dee-Ann’s pack and added some salt, and a few of the pickled onions. His skills as a cook were….limited…to say the least. But he had seen Dee-Ann do at least this much enough times to emulate. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>*</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The sky was dappled with clouds as Castiel walked along the stream looking for berries or wild mushrooms. He’d managed to find a few brambles bearing dark little berries, but thus far; he hadn’t tasted one. He wasn’t very good at telling the difference between things that were safe to eat, and those that were poisonous. So he had developed a habit of placing various things in separate pockets, careful not to mix them; and asking Dee-Ann later. A chilly wind coursed through the valley, making him shiver. He had left his cloak back at the camp. Looking over his shoulder, he saw the solid bank of weather they’d been trying to outrun for days; was still looming. It would catch up to them any day now. Castiel felt the wind lap at his hair, billowing it out behind him and sending the odd swath cascading over his shoulder. He’d left it to dry unbound for once and it felt glorious. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>He clambered up onto a slightly higher rock and looked around the Valley. It was beautiful here, in a wild, untamed sort of way. With a sigh, he sat down on the rock, letting his eyes wander back in the direction from which they’d come. It was almost impossible to imagine that only a scant few weeks ago, he had been a Prince of the Blood living in the Palace. Objectively, he’d known this place existed. But he could not more have imagined the reality of </span> <span> <em>experiencing</em> </span> <span> it, than a child can grasp the pleasure of spilling his seed. He felt his eyebrows knit together in a frown. It all seemed….</span> <span> <em>smaller</em> </span> <span>….somehow. His life as it had been. Bowing </span> <span> <em>this</em> </span> <span> way to a courtier, and </span> <span> <em>that</em> </span> <span> way to a General. All the hours spent painting his face so he could look </span> <span> <em>just so </em> </span> <span>to ring the temple bell and approve a girl from some nameless Great House to be a handmaiden. His silly dresses and plans. All those things that had seemed to be so paramount…..all of them had been swept away in one single night. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>He realized that in many ways, </span> <span> <em>he</em> </span> <span> had been a naïve child, completely ignorant to the truth of the world. A porcelain doll wrapped in tissue paper and put on a very high shelf to make sure he incurred no damage. He breathed through his nose, feeling the cold seep into his chest even as his hair flowed and fluttered heavily in the wind. He was not that porcelain Prince anymore. And he would never be again. He was changing. All of this </span> <span> <b>new</b> </span> <span> experience, new knowledge, new </span> <span> <b> <em>life</em> </b> </span> <span>……it was changing him. How much and into what he did not know. But of one thing he was certain. If he had been sleepwalking through his life until that terrible night, he was awake now.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>Abruptly, he chuckled. If Gabriel could see him </span> <span> <em>now</em> </span> <span>. Not a stitch of paint on his face, hair unbound; wearing women’s clothing and running for his life through the land of Mijak with no one but a beautiful peasant who was practically a stranger at his side. Swimming naked in pools. The dirt under his fingernails. Cooking his </span> <span> <em>own </em> </span> <span>food and foraging for berries and mushrooms in the wild. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Gabriel would have loved that. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He could practically hear him.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span> <em>“It’s all dreadfully exciting Cassie. This is the stuff plays are made of! But so far it’s all a bit dry don’t you think? All doom and gloom and death and running. It needs a little….</em> </span> <span> <b> <em>spice</em> </b> </span> <span> <em>…if you catch my meaning. Luckily fate has provided you a haunch of handsome man that will do the trick </em> </span> <span> <b> <em>quite</em> </b> </span> <span> <em> nicely.”</em> </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>Castiel couldn’t stop the chuckle that bubbled up in him. Though the smile froze on his face and unbidden, the tears started to flow freely down his cheeks. He let them. He’d had so little time to himself to think of anything but the imminent danger he was in, he hadn’t allowed himself to grieve. Or even to fully admit just how profoundly he missed Gabriel in all of this. Oh how he would have hated this! Gabriel was a creature of luxury and comfort. A more perfect example of what a Prince </span> <span> <em>should</em> </span> <span> have been had never nor would ever live. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>And just then Castiel would’ve given everything he’d ever owned if he could’ve had him, moaning and lamenting and complaining and sitting beside him there on that rock. His heart ached like a bruise. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>It seemed impossible to imagine that he was truly the </span> <span> <b>only</b> </span> <span> one left. Being last born into such a prolific family, the idea that they were all </span> <span> <em>gone</em> </span> <span> was unfathomable. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>Despite his horror, he had to applaud Li-Illitur’s plan though. If she had attempted to stage this coup at any other time, it wouldn’t have been possible as too many of his brothers and sisters lived in far flung corners of the map. But the Queen’s nameday had been the one day of the year when </span> <span> <em>all</em> </span> <span> of her living children were in attendance at the Palace.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>It was almost vulgar in its elegance.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>For a second, his mind flashed back to the horrors he had witnessed at the Palace. And the premonition of what had constituted the last moments of his siblings lives….was like a dirty fingernail dragged over his mind. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>He owed it to them to survive. To avenge this. To set things </span> <span> <em>right</em> </span> <span>.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>He didn’t know how. In fact he didn’t have the first clue. But of one thing he was completely resolved. Li-Illitur would </span> <span> <b>not</b> </span> <span> get away with this. And even if it took a hundred years, the last word on her lips this side of the grave….would be his name.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>*</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>When all of his pockets were filled, he made his way back to the waterfall. Dee-Ann – having apparently decided to ignore Castiel’s wishes – was not sleeping. It takes Castiel a moment to fully comprehend just </span> <span> <em>what</em> </span> <span> it is he’s seeing. For surely it couldn’t be real.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>Dee-Ann was standing next to the riverbank, shirtless and barefoot, wearing only his tight grey leggings. His forelocks had been knotted behind his head, leaving the sharp angles of his jawline and his cheekbones perfectly exposed. Castiel’s mouth went a little dry as he drew nearer. Light blind him. Did the man have to be </span> <span> <em>so</em> </span> <span> beautiful……? </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann seemed to be doing some kind of a…dance? But it is unlike any dance he has ever seen. Under his careful gaze, he watched as the blond haired man performed an intricate series of slow movements, stretches, graceful leaps and turns. It’s amazing to watch, beautiful almost. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>For a long while, Castiel contents himself to simply stand and watch, feasting his eyes on the sumptuous amount of skin on display. He bitterly regretted the bandage covering the burn on Dee-Ann’s shoulder as he stood admiring the fluid motion of Dee-Ann’s muscles under the tight seal of his skin. The evidence of their limited diet is etched into the lines of Dee-Ann’s chest, but instead of making him look weak it actually becomes him. His body is lean and tight, and the sheen of sweat makes the thing layer of golden hair clinging to his chest, his arms, his stomach and even his chin look……inviting. Castiel cannot stop his eyes from meandering over the peaks and valleys of Dee-Ann’s chest, noting the way the hair grew a little darker beneath his navel. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>Dee-Ann never looks up, but Castiel can sense he </span> <span> <em>knows</em> </span> <span> that he is there. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann’s body is radiating calm, moving with a fluid grace that has Castiel biting the inside of his cheek. He watched as Dee-Ann lunged forward with invisible blades, noting how he twirls; twisting from his narrow hips to his shoulders as he dives forward with a decisive jab. The muscles of his back shift, and then Dee-Ann is retreating; parrying the thrust of his invisible opponent’s sword. His lean toes curl in the grass as he stands up straight and Castiel chooses that moment to speak. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Impressive.” He said stepping forward. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“My hotas.” Dee-Ann said, a mysterious little smile playing on his lips. “I haven’t practiced them in too long.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“You looked perfect to me.” Castiel said kneeling next to the fire, emptying his pockets rapidly. Looking over his shoulder Castiel shoots him a devious smile. “Can you show </span> <span> <em>me</em> </span> <span>?”</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann quirks him a skeptical look, as though appraising him. “If you think you are up to the task.” He said with a hint of teasing, a small smirk creeping across his face. Castiel chuckles as he straightens up, already fussing with the laces of his tunic. Before long, he too is shirtless and barefoot. Rather than waste time braiding his – now completely dry and poker straight – hair, Castiel simply took two handfuls of his forelocks and knotted them behind his head, leaving the rest to cascade freely down his back. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Have you ever done any kind of fighting?” Dee-Ann asked.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Of course not. But I’m a quick study, and….” He paused to throw his leg over his head, soaring through the air for a moment in a neat cartwheel and landing smoothly. “…I’ve had dancing lessons almost every day for as long as I can remember.” He finished straightening up. “Surely that must count for something.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann swallowed, and Castiel could have sworn he saw his eyes rover over Castiel’s chest. The bruises from the woman on the battlement had all but faded. Only the worst ones were still visible, and then only as pale green or yellow smudges on his skin. Castiel looked down at himself, following Dee-Ann’s eyes. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Ah. His tattoos. Dee-Ann had never seen them fully. He smiled to himself. Technically, Dee-Ann still had not. He would have to see Castiel completely naked for that. His cock gave a small twitch at the thought, but Castiel ignored it. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Very good. Then follow me.” Dee-Ann said stepping closer to him.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel is not certain how much time passes thusly, Dee-Ann showing him a movement and he mimicking him. Only that by the time they had finished the sun was low in the sky and they were both slick with sweat. Castiel’s body felt warm and supple as he sat down next to the fire, not bothering to redress himself just yet. His hip smarted from when he’d taken a tumble. And he could feel a few places where his body would be tight and sore in the morning. But he had learned many new things. And Dee-Ann had complimented him on his form and technique. For his part, Dee-Ann upended a water bladder over his head and shook the water off himself like a dog. Castiel chuckled as they fire sputtered and spat as a few errant drops hit it when Dee-Ann plopped down next to him; pulling the tie from his hair and letting it fall all around his face. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“You’ll have to let me do something about that mop of yours.” Castiel said around a sip of wine from his own bladder. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Tcha!” Dee-Ann said with no rancor. “You are one to speak.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“At least let me even it out. You look like you were attacked by a pair of blunt scissors.” Castiel teased. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I’ll have you know, my godbraids were very beautiful. I used to squeeze lemon juice into my bathwater and sit in the sun to dry. My hair bleached to the color of cornmush.” Dee-Ann said. “They hung almost to my waist and sang with silver godbells whenever I moved.” He continued, smoothing his thumb in a ling over his lower back to show illustrate as he spoke. “They were so heavy with charms they would sometimes snag on my silk tunics. The laundry slaves used to pish and moan at me when they had to repair them.” Dee-Ann said with a smile, his eyes getting slightly unfocused as he looked deep into the past. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>Castiel nodded as he spoke. A multitude of questions sprang up in him. This was the kind of thing Dee-Ann had said more than once. Always off handed and casually as if these stories were completely commonplace. Castiel tried to imagine </span> <span> <em>that</em> </span> <span> Dee-Ann, dressed in silk with slaves to do his laundry for him. Silver godbells and multiple hair charms spoke of wealth, which only made Castiel </span> <span> <em>more</em> </span> <span> curious. Dee-Ann didn’t seem to understand how incongruous such an image was with the man he had met that night in the Keep.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“And what happened to these fabulous gobraids of yours?” Castiel asked and instantly regretted it. A shadow fell over Dee-Ann’s eyes.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I sacrificed them to the God when I ran from that House.” He said after a moment. “I made of them an offering to guide me and see me safely to Et-Novakar.” He added. “I thought my destiny waited for me there but it did not. I thought the God was guiding me there but I think I may have misunderstood; which is why I go back to Et-Haravelle now.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel did not know what to say to that, so for a long time he said nothing; instead busying himself with cutting up mushrooms and stirring the pot on the fire. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“For whatever it may be worth. </span> <span> <b>I</b> </span> <span> am grateful the God guided you to Et-Novakar.” Castiel said finally. “I don’t know about destiny, but I certainly wouldn’t be here if not for you.” </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“The God is the God. It has its reason for everything. It will show me in time what my true purpose is.” Dee-Ann said sounding. “For both of us.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel said nothing to that. He did not feel like arguing with Dee-Ann. Though his insides cringed whenever the other man started talking with such affection and devotion about the God. His vengeful God who had stood by idly and done nothing to prevent the fall of his entire world. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Though the smile Dee-Ann gave him as he dished them each a bowl of the stew Castiel had made, banished all negative thought from his mind. His stomach seemed to flutter as he looked at the blond man and Castiel sighed through his nose. He was being ridiculous and he knew it. But it was so hard to stop his mind wandering down all kinds of delicious avenues when he was sitting a scant few inches from Dee-Ann. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>It was a particular kind of pain he felt, knowing Dee-Ann was well within arms reach and yet….a world away. The promise of so much bliss right there are his fingertips, but being completely unable to do anything about it made Castiel shiver. In the Palace he had never had to think too hard on his </span> <span> <em>otherness</em> </span> <span>. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>It had never occurred to him how much protection and security he had enjoyed as a Prince. Here? In the real world? Without his crown and titles and blood to protect him, he was in real danger if the wrong person were to learn of his desires. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He wondered idly how Dee-Ann would react. Would he care? Would he be disgusted? Would he be angry?</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>He didn’t know. And more, he didn’t want to. True it was a strange kind of hurt he felt being around Dee-Ann but not being </span> <span> <em>with</em> </span> <span> him. But as Dee-Ann complimented him on the food – which was probably an outright lie – Castiel couldn’t help but smile broadly. His blood seeming to froth and bubble in his veins as he looked a the back of Dee-Ann’s neck. His beautiful slender neck. He traced the bumps of his spine and had to curl his fingers into a fist to keep from reaching over and brushing his knuckles along them. It didn't help that Dee-Ann had the ability to flip from ice to sunshine and back again on the head of a pin. </span><span>Castiel had convinced himself several times that he would be perfectly happy to brand him as <em>difficult</em> and <em>unapproachable</em> when he was in one of his sulks. He'd even gotten as far as convincing himself that he <em>preferred</em> a recalcitrant Dee-Ann. It was easier to stay away from him that way. But two words from Dee-Ann? Even a barely veiled apology and all apathy and sourness on Castiel's part would evaporate. Even knowing that sooner rather than later, his warmth would be answered with ice from the other man, Castiel found himself clinging to those moments of softness. When Dee-Ann's cold and hardened carapace slipped enough for him to glimpse the person underneath. The few hints Dee-Ann had given him pointed to a less than idyllic past. And he felt he could read it it in his eyes. Tiny symbols and signs of pain not far behind. Castiel knew he was probably imagining it. He wanted so desperately to believe he was <strong>special</strong>, and that was why Dee-Ann would sometimes allow a little of his true self to shine through. Objectively, Castiel chided himself that he was the only person <em><strong>there</strong></em> for Dee-Ann to show anything<em> to. </em>But still......There was something at once chilling and off putting in the distance that crept in between them in those sudden moments. It was almost as if Dee-Ann was doing it on purpose. Feeding him slack in the form of tiny intimacies and even the odd lingering gaze; before unceremoniously yanking away all semblance of fellowship.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann finished his food, and to his endless credit actually reached for a second helping. Once the bowls were packed away, they both threw on their tunics. They would carry their packs over to the safety of the waterfall cave soon, but the fire was still burning brightly, and Dee-Ann was already rummaging in Castiel's pack for Gabriel's book. As if by some unspoken sacrament, it was agreed that - having halted their travels earlier that day - there would be more time than usual for him to practice his reading. He gave Castiel a tentative look. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>"Would you mind reading me the page from last night?" Dee-Ann asked.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>"The one where Isaora meets Sescharim in the Secret Garden in the middle of the night?" Castiel asked.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann nodded his response. "There was so many new words......" he said not meeting his eyes. ".....and I like to hear <em>you</em> read it. My tongue struggles. I would like to hear the words again." </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel's hand was already in the air waiting for the book. Dee-Ann <em>must've</em> known about this <strong>influence</strong> he held over Castiel. This power. That could make him do practically anything. He would read the whole thrice cursed <em>book</em> if Dee-Ann had asked. He thought for a moment he saw something flash over Dee-Ann's face. There then gone.  And as Castiel turned to the earmarked page, and sensed more than felt Dee-Ann draw near, he found himself silently pleading that he <em>was</em> in fact wrong. That he'd imagined all of it. That there was no special connection. No strange power Dee-Ann had over him. And even if there was, that Dee-Ann was not aware of it. No hint of desire. No infinitesimal scrap of hope to cling to. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>It <em>couldn't </em>be true for Dee-Ann as well. Otherwise he was the cruelest man alive to hurt him in this way.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel began to read, putting on individual voices the way he knew would make Dee-Ann laugh, and even giving Sescharim a slight accent. His reading was interrupted by the odd question from Dee-Ann, asking for clarification on a term or expressing that he thought the characters were being stupid standing in a garden talking when they might be caught. Castiel did not try to stop himself laughing, shaking his head as Dee-Ann frowned. He seemed to be picturing the scene so vividly, he had all but forgot Castiel was even there.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Light see him.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>‘</span> <span> <em>Hurt me Dee-Ann.</em> </span> <span>’ he thought to himself. ‘</span> <span> <em>Hurt me all you want</em> </span> <span>.’</span></p><p class="normal"> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hey guys. Hope you guys enjoyed. I just wanted to spend a little bit of time with Castiel's internal emotions. He's quite stern, but a lot has happened to him and I didn't want it to come across like he wasn't profoundly affected. Also the: "I hate myself and everything about being gay - except when I'm having happy alone time." </p><p>That was totally me at his age.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0047"><h2>47. The God's Eye</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello my lovelies. As always I cannot thank you guys enough for reading this and going on this journey with me. I appreciate it more than I can say. I honestly, never imagined when I started this at the beginning of the year that it would turn out SO well! We are almost at 4000 hits!!!!!! Like I've said before, I treasure every single kudo, subscribe and comment that you guys bless me with!!!!!!!! </p><p>Just a short chapter to keep the momentum of the story going. I will be doing more of the kind of "time jumping" forwards a few days or even weeks at a time as seen in this chapter, as I really don't feel the need to bog the story down too hard in the day to day of them essentially just walking.</p><p>TRIGGER WARNING: This Chapter contains a brief description of dead bodies.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>There was ice on the pool when they roused early the next morning. And the cold of the night had not retrieved very far as they set off walking. Dee-Ann tucked his chin deeper into his hood, his breath making spears of white vapor as they walked. For all that he had been exhausted after borrowing the God’s power, Dee-Ann had not slept well. He had woken several times in the night despite the coziness of the cave behind the waterfall. Castiel had made a small fire using his strange power, and with the crashing of the water separating them from everything beyond its grey curtain, he and Castiel might have been the only people in the world. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel had volunteered to take the first watch. Twice Dee-Ann had woken, feeling the Prince’s eyes on him. He had kept his eyes closed, peering through only the tiniest of slits. His eyes did not look angry, or even concerned. Perhaps Castiel was simply lost in thought and did not realize he was staring at Dee-Ann. The second time he had not been so stealthy. He opened his eyes and met Castiel’s gaze squarely. The Prince had smiled, offering a small shrug as if to say: “No point in denying it now.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>They had not spoken of it when Dee-Ann had replaced him for his watch. Dee-Ann bristled. There had been something in Castiel’s eyes. He’d known that much. But he didn’t understand just what it was. Tcha! Yet another thing that went unspoken between them. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>For all that they spent practically every moment together there were a great many things that – it seemed – neither of them were keen to discuss. Dee-Ann’s shoulder gave a phantom stab. They hadn’t spoken of it. Just </span>
  <span>
    <em>how</em>
  </span>
  <span> Castiel had healed him? He did not know. He had been too delirious at the time. Yet still somehow he felt as if he almost </span>
  <span>
    <em>remembered</em>
  </span>
  <span>….like grasping after a dream. He had asked the God many times since that night, but the God had not told him. The God had not spoken to him since that night in the Palace. But somehow Castiel had undone what that Witch had infected him with. Aaaaiiiieeeee!!!! Such </span>
  <span>
    <em>power</em>
  </span>
  <span>. And Dee-Ann wore his mark now. He knew Castiel was sorry. He thought he was being stupid. How he could he care that his shoulder bore a scar. Dee-Ann had many. Old ones from his days in the Village when the woman had beat him; or where one of the dogs had almost bitten his foot off when he a small he-brat. From all the long roads he had traveled. And he bore new ones too. The arrow wound in his leg still smarted from time to time. His shoulder still ached when the night grew too cold. But he did not mind it overmuch.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>
    <em>This</em>
  </span>
  <span> scar, he wore with pride. It was like an initial. This mark. A signature carved on the scroll of his life that he could read. It was physical representation where Prince Castiel of Et-Novakar had once found his body worthy of such vandalism.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Neither of them had brought up the night they had first met. What had happened when their skin had touched.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The memory was still potent and ready in Dee-Ann’s mind. He did not think he would ever forget it. Dee-Ann did not have the words to describe it. Even to himself. That </span>
  <span>
    <em>feeling</em>
  </span>
  <span>……it was like the day Maeghara had told the woman to remove his chains. Safe. Precious. Or the first time he had tasted the sweetness of honey on his tongue. So delicious. Like when the man Bisla had called him beautiful. How he had felt the first night sleeping on a soft, warm bed with too many blankets. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>All these memories were precious to him. Like jewels in his mind that he could take out and look at whenever he wanted to. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Yet </span>
  <span>
    <em>none</em>
  </span>
  <span> of them compared to what he had felt when he his skin had touched Castiel’s that first night….</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>They had not spoken of it. But in those endless blue eyes last night, when Castiel had been watching him, Dee-Ann had </span>
  <span>
    <b>known</b>
  </span>
  <span> without needing to be told…that Castiel had felt it too. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>And he had not forgotten either.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>*</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann set a hard pace for them over the next few days. Though it had been all but unavoidable, the loss of nearly an entire days worth of travel was not something they could afford. They woke to a light drizzle of rain on the morning of the fourth day which had quickly turned into a deluge; and it had served as a dreadful premonition of what lay ahead if they did not get out of the mountains soon. Their cloaks, though thick; were not oiled. And it took them only a scant few hours until they were soaked through to the bone. Finally it had been Dee-Ann who had suggested they take shelter before one of them caught a chill.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Once we get to the next town we will have to try and get some proper traveling clothes. Or at least just more of what we have.” Castiel said slightly breathlessly once they’d set off again the next morning.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Where is that?” Dee-Ann asked. He recalled passing through several smaller settlements on the way here but he hadn’t been paying attention then.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“There’s a village called Auberdine that we’ll pass through first. Then a few days ride beyond that we’ll come to Et-Theramore.” Castiel spoke as if he was searching through his mind for the right names. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“A city?” Dee-Ann asked. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“A small one yes. House Theramore are weavers. That’ll mean sheep country. And at least we’ll be able to find some good quality clothes there.” Castiel said.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Is it safe? For us to venture into the city?” Dee-Ann asked sounding suspicious. He did not like the idea at all. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I don’t see that we have any other choice. We can’t wear the same clothes all the way to Et-Haravelle.” Castiel said. Dee-Ann nodded. Their clothes were filthy. No amount of washing in cold rivers every couple of days would make up for the amount of sweat and dirt clinging to them. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“How do you propose we pay for them? Or was his majesty suggesting we steal?” Dee-Ann teased. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Aren’t you the one who’s always telling me the God will provide?” Castiel returned coyly, making Dee-Ann chuckle. “Maybe you should try some of your infamous </span>
  <span>
    <em>faith</em>
  </span>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann’s smile did not waver. Castiel was japing. But even through the laughter, he could hear some truth. It was yet another thing they did not discuss, but Dee-Ann was growing worried about the way Castiel sharpened his tongue on the God and Dee-Ann’s faith sometimes. There was no love in his words for the God. If anything he sometimes sounded as if he was </span>
  <span>
    <em>challenging</em>
  </span>
  <span> or </span>
  <span>
    <em>daring</em>
  </span>
  <span> the God to smite him for his blasphemy. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He shook his head.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>*</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Finally, three days later; they crested the last peak of the Mountain Pass and the vastness of Mijak spread out before them. The signs of creeping winter were evident everywhere, but some of the trees still clung to their leaves in the thick forest they were headed into. Only the Queen’s Road cut through the trees. All the rest was hidden by the branches.  Dee-Ann nodded his approval, thanking the God silently. Forest was good. It would be easy to hide in there. Not to mention better foraging and more animals for hunting.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>They were halfway down the mountain when something in the air, </span>
  <span>
    <em>changed</em>
  </span>
  <span>. A stink clung to the breeze as it whistled its way up the slope, thick and sticky. Dee-Ann’s stomach turned, and he had to swallow several times to keep from bringing up his breakfast. The smell was at once horrifying…and familiar.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Do you smell that?” Castiel asked frowning, pressing his hand to his nose.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Dead people.” Dee-Ann said. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Neither of them spoke again as they continued down the mountain. Dee-Ann had drawn his cooking knife, and Castiel held his hands out in front of him in that way that Dee-Ann had come to recognize as him being poised to use his magic. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>They hadn’t gone more than half a mile when the smell grew all but unbearable. And rounding a particularly large oak tree, they came to an unnatural clearing that was the source of the stink. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>It was a Godpost, meticulously placed on a small circle of milky white stones. It stood grim and glorious as the God itself. Not wood, but solid shiny black stone. All its carved scorpions were purple and crimson. It would have been beautiful, if not for the dead bodies littered around the Godstone at its base. Dee-Ann counted twenty, but there may have been more for there was a small mound of bodies off to the side as well. The stones were stained brown and black and red with spilled blood.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel gasped. “Was this a battle?” he asked.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“No.” Dee-Ann said surveying the scene. Almost all of the bodies were stripped naked. There were men and women, all with their chests slit open; the cavities weeping their guts onto the ground. He also noted that all of them had crimson slave braids hanging limp around their dead faces. “They were sacrificed.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>All three godbowls set around the Godpost were filled to bursting. Two with coin and amulets and snake skulls and other wealth. The third was filled with the fetid remains of cockerels, and pigeons and even a bull calf. All rotting in the weak sunlight. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“What do you mean?” Castiel asked looking horrified.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann frowned. This wasn’t right. “The God rejected the offerings…..” he said sounding confused.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“</span>
  <span>
    <b>Dee-Ann</b>
  </span>
  <span>!” Castiel said loudly. “What do you </span>
  <span>
    <em>mean</em>
  </span>
  <span> sacrificed?”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“This must be the border. We have passed from the lands belonging to Et-Novakar city into the province itself. Anyone traveling here would have to have made offering before passing any further. It is the way.” Dee-Ann explained.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“You mean…….” Castiel breathed, his face a mask of horror before he doubled over and vomited on the ground. For the span of the next few minutes the only sound is of Castiel’s retching, before finally he accepted a sip of wine once there was nothing left for him to bring up.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“This can’t be right….</span>
  <span>
    <em>human</em>
  </span>
  <span> sacrifice? It has been illegal for years……” he croaked eventually, looking deathly pale and miserable. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann shrugged. “Perhaps in the capital. But this is the way I have known things to be done ever since the first time I saw one of these.” He said simply. He did not understand why Castiel was so horrified. But he did not ask.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“And they just left them here?” Castiel whispered. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Of course.” Dee-Ann said. What a stupid thing to say. “It would be a terrible sin to touch anything that had been rejected by the God.” He explained when the Prince still did not seem to understand.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“All these people…….” Castiel said looking around. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“They were slaves.” Dee-Ann said softly.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“A slave is also a </span>
  <span>
    <em>person</em>
  </span>
  <span> Dee-Ann.” Castiel barked at him angrily. “Light blind me…..this is barbaric. Where are their Masters? Where are the people who did this?”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“They would’ve turned back. Terrible things happen to travelers who would ignore such a powerful message from the God. The God is obviously angry. It’s the only explanation for why it did accept these offerings.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel snarled, and looked as if he wanted to say something but thought better of it. Instead he simply looked around the Godpost. “We have to do something for them. We cannot leave these people here like this. They have suffered enough indignity.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“We don’t have time.” Dee-Ann said pointing at the Godstone. “Some of this blood is still wet. That means there were people here in the last day or two. If we tarry here too long we might be found…..”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Then go!” Castiel barked. “I’ll catch up.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“What do you mean to do?” Dee-Ann asked. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“We can’t bury them There are too many of them and we’ve nothing with which to dig. But at the very least I can burn the bodies.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“And risk setting the entire forest ablaze?” Dee-Ann countered. “Besides. You </span>
  <span>
    <em>cannot</em>
  </span>
  <span> make a fire so close to the Godpost.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Oh hang the Godpost. This thing will not stand.” Castiel said already unclipping his cloak and shaking out his hands. “Give me your satchel.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Why?” Dee-Ann asked. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“You said it yourself. Your God rejected these offerings. We can put them to better use.” He said plunging his hands into the Godbowl and gathering up handfuls of the coins and amulets there.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann screamed even as he flung himself to the ground, covering his head with his hands. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Aaaaaaaiiiiiiieeeeee!!!!! You MUST STOP!!!!!! YOU CANNOT DO THIS!” he shouted, waiting for the God to smite them both.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Instead all he heard was the sound of coin being gathered and deposited into the satchel. Dee-Ann peeked out from between his hands, looking about him in terror. He did not understand…….</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Come on.” Castiel urged. “It seems your God does not mind.” </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“This is a sin Castiel.” Dee-Ann said earnestly.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“No. </span>
  <span>
    <b>This</b>
  </span>
  <span> is a sin.” Castiel said moving his hands around him to indicate the dead slaves. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>When the satchel could hold no more gold, and all Castiel’s pockets were filled with gold, the Prince stood back and raised his arms high above him. His face was a mask of strain and concentration and even from beneath his clothes Dee-Ann could see his tattoos glowing. His eyes burned with fire as a the clouds above them swirled and roiled, before…….unbelievably…..a column of bright golden light erupted from the heavens. The ground all around them crackled as the blood and bodies and bones of the dead slaves and animals caught alight, and for the next minutes that felt like an hour, the air is filled with the smell of smoke and foul roasting meat.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>To his astonishment, Castiel’s fire did not burn </span>
  <span>
    <em>them</em>
  </span>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He did not dare lift his forehead from the ground, praying again and again. Begging the God for forgiveness. Not to forsake its slave.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>When Castiel finally dropped his hands, and the light vanished the world seemed to fall into dead silence. Dee-Ann looked around them. The Godpost seemed unharmed, but the black stone gleamed with heat, sending patterns dancing into the air. The smoke billowed in a great column and the hole cut in the clouds still lingered.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“We must go!” Dee-Ann said desperately. “That would have been visible for miles and miles!”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“This world will not last.” Castiel said with a finality that terrified him. He spoke as if he did not hear Dee-Ann, though it was obvious he was exhausted from the effort. “I will not let it.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0048"><h2>48. Into the village of Auberdine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello my lovelies. I'm on a bit of a creative roll, so I'm going to try and crank out as many of these as I can before it runs out. Again, slightly shorter chapter, but the next one is probably going to be a long one so I thought it best to end it off where I did. As always, thank you for joining me and I hope you guys enjoy!!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann had not spoken a word to Castiel by the time the Godmoon and his Wife appeared on the horizon. They had all but run down the mountainside and into the thicker cover of the trees. Castiel had tried to speak to him several times but Dee-Ann had resolutely ignored him. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Stupid, </span>
  <span>
    <b>sinful</b>
  </span>
  <span> man! He did not want to hear one word that he had to say. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>With every step he took Dee-Ann pleaded with the God. First he had begged for forgiveness, and he had made every promise he knew how that he would make sacrifice and offering as soon as they made camp that night. Aaaaaiiiiieeeee!!!! He did not want to imagine the God’s wrath.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>But more than his endless apologies, Dee-Ann begged for </span>
  <span>
    <em>answers</em>
  </span>
  <span>. He was very confused. His mind </span>
  <span>
    <em>could</em>
  </span>
  <span> not make sense of what had happened. To put one’s hands into a </span>
  <span>
    <em>Godbowl</em>
  </span>
  <span>?! Especially one that was filled with cursed, rejected offerings? Such a thing would cost a woman an arm if not her life outright. And to make fire around a </span>
  <span>
    <em>Godpost</em>
  </span>
  <span>?! A stoning sin.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Yet the God had remained silent.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann would not have been surprised if a bolt of lightning had struck from the sky and burned both of them to ash and snuffed out their Godsparks. But nothing had happened. There had been no reckoning. Did that mean that the God had actually…..</span>
  <span>
    <em>approved</em>
  </span>
  <span>? Or did it mean something else.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He did not know. The God did not answer him. He glared at Castiel as he went through the motion of building a fire. Dee-Ann felt certain his troubles in summoning the God were tied to </span>
  <span>
    <em>him</em>
  </span>
  <span>. Even before they left the city the God had offered weeks of silence for every one word it spoke to Dee-Ann. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I can fell you glaring.” Castiel said abruptly, sitting down on the opposite end of the fire to Dee-Ann. It was a good fire. It would much easier to find supplies now they were in the forest. The ground was covered in twigs and dried leaves. “I know you’re still angry but you don’t have to….”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“</span>
  <span>
    <em>Angry?</em>
  </span>
  <span> Is that what I am?” Dee-Ann spat out.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“He speaks.” Castiel countered, lifting his hands and smiling without humor. “Well go on then. Unburden yourself. I’ve been fair </span>
  <span>
    <em>bursting</em>
  </span>
  <span> with anticipation of your wrath.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“It is not </span>
  <span>
    <b>my</b>
  </span>
  <span> wrath you should be worrying about.” Dee-Ann said in a voice filled with poison. “And be grateful I did not speak. I needed time to order my own mind. It is not everyday I find myself in strange woods with a demonstruck Prince who thinks he can flout the laws of the God.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“And what precisely is it that you want from me Dee-Ann?” Castiel asked, his voice low but still edged with anger and annoyance. “Do you want me to apologize? Hmm? Do you want me to tell you I’m sorry?”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“No I want you to </span>
  <span>
    <b>be</b>
  </span>
  <span> sorry.” Dee-Ann answered emphatically. “I told you before. Words mean nothing. They are puff of air. It is your </span>
  <span>
    <em>actions</em>
  </span>
  <span> that matter! And….”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Right! And my only action was to right a wrong that I considered to be too egregious to ever let stand! The sight of those people who died for </span>
  <span>
    <em>nothing</em>
  </span>
  <span>, left to rot like garbage….it was too much for my conscience to bear. I tried to give them a little slice of peace. And I’m not going to apologize for that.” Castiel cut in quickly.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Of course not. When do you ever? When has </span>
  <span>
    <b>Prince Castiel</b>
  </span>
  <span> or any one in his Blood </span>
  <span>
    <em>ever</em>
  </span>
  <span> had to apologize for anything?” Dee-Ann said harshly. “You just sit in your villas and your Palaces looking down on all the little ants who are so far beneath you it doesn’t matter when one of you starts a senseless war or do spit in the face of the God like you did today.” Dee-Ann said stabbing the air with his finger as he spoke. “And just as before, it’s left to the rest of us to pick up the pieces. I guess we should all just be grateful that </span>
  <span>
    <em>this</em>
  </span>
  <span> time no one died.” he finished, her tone light compared to the acid in her words.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Fuck. You.” Castiel said enunciating every word. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“No fuck you!” Dee-Ann countered. “Tell me this </span>
  <span>
    <b>Prince</b>
  </span>
  <span>. How many people are there in the world who can do what you do? Hmm? Who can bend light and summon fire from the heavens? Is it five? Is it twenty?” </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel looked a little sheepish, but Dee-Ann pressed on. “You cry over a few slaves because your </span>
  <span>
    <em>conscience</em>
  </span>
  <span> could not handle it. Will your conscience protect us now? And yes…</span>
  <span>
    <b>us</b>
  </span>
  <span>….because it is not only </span>
  <span>
    <em>your</em>
  </span>
  <span> life you risk. It is mine too. Look around. Do you see where we are? We are hiding in the woods because there are women who want to kill </span>
  <span>
    <b>you</b>
  </span>
  <span>. Who are trying to find </span>
  <span>
    <b>you</b>
  </span>
  <span>. Have you forgotten? Women with knives and spears and axes and black magic. And what do you do? You paint them a map that leads right to us…..”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“And I am trying to apologize for that!” Castiel said loudly. “I have admitted that it was a senseless thing to do! But you are too busy sharpening your tongue into a knife and cutting me with your little sermon. And since we are speaking plainly……You yourself have told me that there was a time when you dressed in silk. When you had slaves to do you bidding, and silver godbells in your hair. Someone hired you a tutor to teach you to read and write. Does that not smack just a little of nobility you condemn me for?” he continued leaning his head forward and tilting it slightly to the side. “You play the part of the half starved savage very well, but do </span>
  <span>
    <em>not</em>
  </span>
  <span> speak to me of privilege as if it is some exotic dish upon which you have never supped.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann blinked. There was truth in that. But he was not ready to surrender his anger. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“It is true. It is also true that I walked away from that life so I could better serve the God.” Dee-Ann said fervently. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel’s entire body seemed to slump around a sigh. “Don’t you ever tire of being so endlessly righteous?”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“There is a difference between being righteous and being </span>
  <span>
    <em>right</em>
  </span>
  <span>.” Dee-Ann said simmering down a little.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I couldn’t agree more.” Castiel said looking up to meet his eyes. The sadness mixed with anger mixed with hurt and a thousand other emotions he saw there almost made Dee-Ann melt. He could see that Castiel believed down to his soul that what he had done was right. He wanted Dee-Ann to believe it too. But he could not. Castiel had done </span>
  <span>
    <em>wrong</em>
  </span>
  <span>. He had violated the sacred Godbowl and stolen what belonged to the God.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>As if reading his thoughts Castiel spoke again. “About the Godbowl….”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann shut his eyes, trying to keep his anger from blazing to its full might and flattening Castiel beneath the weight of his fury. “I don’t want to talk about that.” He said. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“We needed the money. We still do. We are scant two weeks out of the Palace and already we are on our last legs.” Castiel said, the earnest sincerity in his voice seeming to burn. “You said yourself, we cannot keep going the way we have been. Always cold. Always starving. A tent that is not even large enough for both of us. We have hundreds of miles ahead of us if we are to reach Et-Haravelle and without proper supplies….perhaps a horse? We won’t make it. We’ll die by the side of the road and all of this will have been for nothing. And we may as well have died with everyone else.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“But to steal from the God?” Dee-Ann asked simply. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel looked frustrated for a moment. “How is it stealing? The God rejected those offerings. You are the one who keeps telling me you are the God’s slave. It’s chosen. And that I am chosen too. How do you know the God did not reject those offerings </span>
  <span>
    <em>exactly</em>
  </span>
  <span> for this purpose?”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Tcha! Now you blaspheme to justify your sins?” Dee-Ann challenged. Castiel’s face turned murderous.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Your arrogance does you no credit in this.” He said tugging his braid over his shoulder to busy his hands. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“You think </span>
  <span>
    <b>me</b>
  </span>
  <span> arrogant? Am I the sinning fool who put my hands into a Godbowl? I think I am not.” Dee-Ann yelled back. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“No. I am. Twice now if memory serves. Though you didn’t seem half so offended when it was </span>
  <span>
    <em>you</em>
  </span>
  <span> who benefited from it. I put my hands into the godbowl to retrieve your amulet, and again today to procure the funds we will need to survive. And here I stand!” Castiel said straightening up and turning on the spot with his arms outstretched. “Unsmitten. Unscathed. If your God is angry with me it has an odd way of showing it.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“You should not speak of the God in this way.” Dee-Ann said looking into the fire. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Ah…..that’s exclusively to be your province is it?” Castiel asked. “You speak of the God as if it sits next to you around this fire. Whispering night and morning its desires into your ear. But don’t you find it queer that; whenever </span>
  <span>
    <b>you</b>
  </span>
  <span> want something it is the will of the God. But the moment something happens you don’t agree with it’s blasphemy and sin? And you balk when I say you are arrogant?”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The Prince settled himself on the ground again with a long sigh. For the next span of moments the only sound is of the crackling fire, and an owl calling somewhere in the distance. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Look….” Castiel began tentatively. “….if you truly cannot forgive me….If you want to </span>
  <span>
    <em>leave</em>
  </span>
  <span>, I will not stop you.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Leave? Dee-Ann gawked at him. Despite everything that had happened that day, he was shocked to realize that the thought had never even occurred to him. He shook his head. “Setting aside the fact that you would be dead in a </span>
  <span>
    <b>week</b>
  </span>
  <span>, the God brought us together for a reason.” He said slowly. The tension in Castiel’s shoulders seemed to relax at that. Dee-Ann stared at him. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“But have a care Castiel. Do not place yourself between me and the God again.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel gave him a grave nod, then stalked off into the dark without any explanation. Dee-Ann did not follow him.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>That night, they did not read together.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>*</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The morning air burned his lungs as Dee-Ann walked. Despite the events of the previous day, he had slept like the dead. Overhead he could hear a bird cry. He did not know these woods so he stayed mindful for any threat. The bitch Chaala had warned against wolves, and bears and all manner of dangerous things that had stolen some of their goats and sheep and camels when they had passed through here the first time. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>They walked alongside the Queen’s Road but didn’t dare go too near it. As the day wore on they had heard the unmistakable sound of many hoofbeats hammering on the stones. For there to be so much noise there had to be many horses. Twice, Dee-Ann noted the sound came from behind them. That meant they had come from over the mountain. He could not know for </span>
  <span>
    <em>certain</em>
  </span>
  <span> that they were scouts sent to investigate the Light Castiel had conjured, but in his mind that is what they were. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The Prince walked silently behind him, his steps heavy with the added weight of all the gold. To his credit, he had not complained once. Nor had he asked Dee-Ann to help him carry the burden. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>They stopped for less than a finger at highsun. Their luncheon comprised of salted goat meat and a bit of hard cheese. The Prince ate wordlessly, though his struggle to tear pieces off the stubborn meat was obvious. He had never been fat, but he had grown visibly thinner in the time Dee-Ann had known him. There were two dark thumb smears under each of the Prince’s blue eyes, and his skin looked pale. Dee-Ann could not help but see some wisdom in his words. Though he would never agree that stealing from the God was the right thing to do, there could be no arguing that they desperately needed coin.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The sound of riders became more common as they drew nearer to the town of Auberdine, which Dee-Ann guessed they would reach before lowsun. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“We’ll need to offer up some form of explanation. Two men traveling unchaperoned will attract attention.” Castiel said behind him. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“We tell them we belong to Traders from a distant province. We tell them we are camping outside the village walls with our Master’s who wish to protect their merchandise.” Dee-Ann said a moment later. Castiel nodded with a surprised look. It was obvious he had not thought of such a simple, and believable lie. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“We’ll need new names too. We can do nothing to alter our appearance, but at least we can change our identities.” Castiel added. “I shall be Vortka.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Vortka?” Dee-Ann asked scrunching up his face. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“It was the name of my brother. He died.” Castiel said. Dee-Ann shrugged. It was as good a name as any he supposed. He thought for a moment. He had no talent for this kind of play acting.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Zandakar.” Dee-Ann said. “I shall be Zandakar.” </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“The Godspeaker from the play?” Castiel asked looking skeptical. Dee-Ann glared at him, daring him to say anything else. Castiel just sighed and shook his head as they continued walking. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>*</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The two of them eventually came to a river where they refilled their water bladders. Castiel named the river Grayflow.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“It’s the only river large deep enough to support boat and barge traffic this side of the Et-Theramore. It forks twenty miles south of here and splits into two of the largest rivers in the Province.” He explained. Dee-Ann nodded, not caring but listening all the same. “It’s fed directly by underground rivers than run through the mountains. Upstream from the town the water is perfectly safe to drink still. Though we’ll need to be careful not to run out, until we reach the city. Auberdine’s main trade is fish and some of the by-products. So from here on out, the river will be untenable.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann nodded. It was strange how much Castiel knew about his country, despite having never left the Palace before. He shook his head. Castiel was a very educated person. He could read and write as naturally as breathing, and he spoke many languages. Dee-Ann felt sheepish as how he struggled to read even the simple little play. He chuffed and shook off the thought. He had more important things to worry about than feeling inferior to a Prince who had spent his life drowning in books.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The trees grew thinner and more sparse as they followed the river. It was obvious that at some point a large portion of the forest had been cleared for wood to build the village. After another hour of walking, the place finally came into view around a bend. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The village of Auberdine was a dull, grey place, made up of short wooden structures and muddy streets. They reached it early enough that the gates had not yet been locked. The wall around the village was not stone, but slender wooden beams; filed into points at the top. It enclosed the village on three sides, leaving the river side open. A wheelhouse had been built there, evident by the loud creaking of its ever turning water wheel. Here and there Dee-Ann could see scorpions carved into the wood, but not many. And besides the odd human skull, or wooden raven; there was no other protection worked into the wall. It was clear this was not a wealthy place. In some ways it reminded him of the Savage East. He cautioned Castiel as they approached.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>They would have to be careful not to spend the stolen coin too freely. Women in places like this could smell money. And once they caught that scent they would lust. And that lust would grow into evil intentions. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“We’ll buy only what we need to get us to Et-Theramore.” Castiel agreed, and they pulled their hoods low over their faces, gathering their cloaks around them and walking into the town.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>*</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Auberdine was no more beautiful up close than it had appeared from outside the gates. As seemed customary for tiny villages like this, it had been built around the Godhouse, which was the only stone structure in sight. It was not much of a Godhouse – a single story building with a pinnacled roof, built from river stones and mortared with mud from the riverbank – though it was by </span>
  <span>
    <em>far</em>
  </span>
  <span> the most impressive building in the Village. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>All the women they passed in the muddy main road – for there were no men in sight – had the same gristled, wind shorn look about them. All wore heavy clothing made from animal hide and boiled wool, and there was a powerful smell of human piss and shit emanating from the mud as they walked. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann noticed Castiel was walking closer to him than he had when they were on the road. He did not blame him. There was the unmistakable feeling of being watched. Here and there, Dee-Ann could see grubby faces peering out through the weather stained windows of the hovels they passed. The wood of the buildings had never been varnished. All the boards stained grey/green by weather, dirt and time. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Next to him, he heard Castiel smother a sound of disgust as he looked around, no doubt spotting more signs of the neglect and squalor that seemed to be the mark of the place. “Hideous little garrison town.” He heard the prince say. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Let’s go.” Dee-Ann said urging him on with a gentle hand to the small of his back. He did not want to linger too long out in the open. Their clothes might be dirty, but they were finer than anything he had seen the Villagers wearing. He did not want to give any of them too long to stare at them. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Having rejected Dee-Ann’s suggestion that they sleep outside the Village, Castiel walked a little ahead of him. From the movement of his head within his hood Dee-Ann guessed he was reading the signs hanging off the few businesses that lined the main road, looking for an Inn or a Tavern. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>They passed a pen where Traders might pen their merchandise overnight, but it was empty. Evidently none of the caravans that had been turned back at the Godpost had decided to spend the night in Auberdine. Dee-Ann could not blame them. He did not like this place. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“There.” Castiel said sounding wary. At the end of the main road near the dockside, there was a two storied building with light streaming from every window. As they approached they could hear the sound of roughhousing and merrymaking escape through the open door. A sign above the door proclaimed it: </span>
  <span>
    <em>The Anchor Point Tavern and Inn</em>
  </span>
  <span>. And an unskilled hand had tried to paint an anchor with a merman wrapped around it on the wall on either side of the door. The merman was flashing a naked and very human ass above his scaled fishtail in the painting.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“We should find somewhere else.” Dee-Ann said, not wanting to say out loud what he suspected the Prince already knew. This place was most likely a brothel. Which meant the rooms upstairs would be where the whores conducted their business.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“There is nowhere else. And the gates will be locked by now.” Castiel said in a stern voice Dee-Ann thought might be put on. He wanted to protest more. There was still much that needed mending between them, but this was no place for a highborn like Castiel. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Come on.” Castiel urged, steadying himself with a breath before walking into the Tavern.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann lingered a moment longer on the doorstep, before following him inside.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0049"><h2>49. Fish in a bowl</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello my lovelies!</p><p>Had to take a break yesterday cause it was my fiance's birthday so we were COOKING! Managed to crank this out today though. Hope you guys enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="normal"><span>“It is not an overstatement of events to say that no tears were shed for my Grandmother Queen Elspeth of Novakar, 9</span> <span> <sup>th</sup> </span> <span> of her name. She was the last denizen of an unbroken Novaki Matriarchal line which spanned into antiquity, into the days of Ursa the Mad. Two thousand years of blood and war. If history teaches us anything, it simply this: All revolutions carry within them the seeds of their own destruction. And Empires once great; will one day fall. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>Considering Elspeth – like her foremothers – dedicated her entire life to </span> <span> <b>legacy</b> </span> <span> and carving her name into history through war and conquest; it is almost comical that she is remembered only for the manner of her death. Her death, and as the woman who gave birth to the man who would alter the course of history. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>My father spoke of her only rarely, and more than once, I recall him referring to himself as: “least loved” among his siblings. What impact does such grim certainty have on the mind of a child? Is it this seeking for a love that was denied him, that drove him to such heights in life that his very name, became a prayer? </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Who can say?</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Though I have often wondered what my Grandmother would have made of the myth of Castiel, the boy the world would come to know as the Heir of the Bloodmoon….”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>Excerpt from</span> <span>the private diaries of Princess Kla-ara (renamed): </span><span><em>‘Ruminations on My Father’</em></span></p><p class="normal">
  <span>-Princess Kla’ara of Et-Novakar.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span> <em>The Anchor Point</em> </span> <span> was no more pleasant inside than it had appeared from the street. Whether by accident, or some attempt at cunning design; the place reminded Dee-Ann of the bowels of a ship somehow. The walls, floor and ceiling were all made up of the same dark wood; though closer inspection showed that the cheap planks had merely been painted to resemble heavier oak. Dee-Ann could see several places where the paint had worn away, and some where it was splintering badly. A thick cloud of steely gray smoke hung over the room. His eyes watered, and after a fit of coughing, he resigned to breath through his mouth.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The entryway lead directly into a short hallway – cheaply carpeted – but he could see the bulk of the room up ahead. It was sunk a few steps below the level of the door, but before Dee-Ann – with Castiel following close behind – could move further into the hall, his vision was obscured by a very fat woman who stepped in front of him from some unseen alcove. Dee-Ann could not keep his eyes from widening as he looked at her. Her features reminded him of a dog. An ugly one. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Her limp godbraids were the color of dirty mop water as they receded in two palm sized bays from her forehead before Excess skin sagged beneath small eyes and around a weak mouth which was too wide for the sunken jaw. But the feature which assailed his eyes above all else was his skin. Moon white and translucent enough to allow nests of veins to be seen just beneath the surface – made all the more apparent by her enormous bulk. She wore a wide linen shirt of indeterminate color. It may have been either white or black once, though now it was a ruddy color somewhere between green and gray. Her breasts were as large as ripe melons, resting heavily on her bloated stomach. His first thought was that she might be pregnant, though as she came hobbling towards them, he could see it was just a layer of fat clinging to her middle. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“State yeer bizness.” She ground out around a mouthful of spitting tobacco. Her accent was all but indecipherable, but Dee-Ann was spared having to ask her to repeat herself when Castiel spoke up from behind him. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“We are weary from the road. We would like to purchase a hot meal, and a room for the night if possible in your….fine establishment.” Castiel said stepping forward. The Innkeeper eyes him dubiously, obviously trying to see inside Castiel’s hood, before her rubbery lips split into a crooked smile and she motioned them in. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Is two bub fer entry.” She said extending her hand. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Bub?” Castiel asked sounding confused. “Oh! Bob. Yes…..” he said digging into a pocket. Dee-Ann was lost. Did Bob mean money? How much? He did not know. But however much Castiel gave her, it seemed to satisfy her. Her smile widened – which did nothing to improve her face – and she beckoned them in.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“If the yung messires’d like to order sum’in tweet. They’s ll’afta speak to me husband. As im thee ahind da bah. Any uvva pleasures the yung messires might want, they need unly ask.” She said with a practiced leer as she pulled back a curtain to reveal a previously unseen parlor. Dee-Ann squinted into the dimly lit room, where three sofas full of overly made up men were sitting. Their faces were painted with garish colors, and their hair was hidden beneath cheap wigs in garish designs. To Dee-Ann, they all looked equally young and equally ravaged as they alternated between yawning, scratching themselves and in several cases, coughing thickly into handkerchiefs. To his surprise, there were even two women sitting there. They had been painted and dressed up to mimic men, but their female features were unmistakable hidden in among the rest. He shook his head. They looked so stupid. Why would a </span> <span> <em>woman</em> </span> <span> paint her face?</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He could sense more than feel Castiel stiffen next to him. “Ah. Well….perhaps later.” Castiel stammered, doing a far better of job of maintaining his composure than Dee-Ann might’ve managed. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“We’re not here for your whores.” Dee-Ann said flatly. “A tankard of ale and a seat close to the fire will do us nicely.” He continued, taking hold of Castiel’s wrist and leading him into the tavern proper. </span>
</p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Why did you do that?” Castiel asked.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Don’t waste your time being polite. In places like this they’ll take you for a fool and try and part you from your money as fast as they can.” Dee-Ann admonished him as they walked. “Besides. I was growing tired of trying to understand that stupid woman’s words.” He admitted. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“She’s a pirate. Or at least she was.” Castiel said. “They all sound like that.” </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“How do you know that?” Dee-Ann asked.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Didn’t you see the brand on her arm? The skull and crossbones? It’s the one they reserve for criminals caught at sea. She tried to hide it but I caught a sight of it when she pulled back the curtain. It means she was captured by the navy. Likely she spent some time in Et-Gheldaneth.” Castiel explained in a hushed tone. Dee-Ann squinted, remembering the prison the Prince had mentioned.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“You learned all that from </span> <span> <b>one</b> </span> <span> look?” Dee- Ann asked frowning. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I read about it in a book.” Castiel said looking a little sheepish.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>They made their way across the floor of the tavern, which was covered in sawdust. To Dee-Ann’s eyes, there seemed to be no rhyme or reason to the layout of the place. Tables of every height, length and shape were strewn haphazardly about the dimly lit room. Most light came from a few torches in sconces along the walls, candles on the tables, and two relatively large fireplaces set into the walls. The tables were packed with groups of women drinking and talking loudly. Here and there, Dee-Ann could see one of the boy whores sitting on one of the women’s laps or pouring them drinks. He grunted his disgust. The smoke was making it difficult to breathe, made worse by the fact that there were barely not enough windows for a room this size.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>They managed to find a corner table unoccupied and Castiel slid into his seat. Dee-Ann remained standing. “I’ll go to the bar.” He offered. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Won’t you need money?” Castiel asked. There was a glint of amusement in his eye, and Dee-Ann did not like it. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Tcha! Stupid Prince. The sin had been committed. The money had been stolen. Pretending now that there would be no use for it would be stupid. But he said none of this. Their entrance had garnished them more than enough attention already. Especially when the Prince had stupidly thrown back his hood. Castiel was the kind of beautiful women would remember for a long time. But there was nothing for it now. Throwing back his own hood, Dee-Ann accepted a small coin purse from Castiel and pushed and shoved his way through the crowd to the bar. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The Barkeep – who was the Innkeeper’s husband – was a portly man, though nowhere near as fat as his wife. His godbraids had been piled messily on his head, leaving a few to dangle over his shoulder. Everything he wore was a cheap imitation of some of the costumes Dee-Ann had seen highborn lords wear in the Palace. To Dee-Ann, the man looked ridiculous. His wide waist was crammed into a stomacher that was practically screaming from being laced too tight. His skirt was wide as it fell to the floor, but as he turned, Dee-Ann could see that more fabric – of a completely different design – had been patched onto it to give it more fullness. His skirts were also hitched up and tied in a way that left his pudgy legs well visible as he moved. His face had been overpainted just like the others, his lips and cheeks too red on a backdrop of pasty white, with eyebrows drawn too high above green shaded eyes. But even so, Dee-Ann could see he was a plain faced man. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>After standing against the bar for a few minutes, the Barkeep finally made his way over to Dee-Ann. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“A verrah gewd evening to ya Messire. What’n I get yee and yer lovely friend? Bottle a wine? Mayhaps ah’ve a bit of Verneese……” the man began, his voice oily enough to spread on bread. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Just ale. And nothing special. Whatever everyone else is drinking.” Dee-Ann said gruffly. He knew these kinds of places from having been on the road with the bitch Bara-bhur for so long. “And food. Do you have any stew?”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Ah’ve the best pork pie is side o’the Capitol me. M’wife likes to gorge h’self to the point o’blotation she does.” The man said, a slow smile spreading across his face like a blade being unsheathed. His teeth squeaked when he spoke, a large portion being made up of porcelain teeth that had been screwed into his head; which rather hideously showed off the true color of those real teeth still remaining.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“Two pork pies then. And we’ll need a room for the night. Something </span> <span> <em>clean</em> </span> <span>, and wood for a fire.” Dee-Ann said.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Clean he says. As extra. Eight silver pieces. Wood’s extra too.” He said. “Ten pieces.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Nine.” Dee-Ann countered.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Ten, an ah’ll light the fire m’self.” The Bar keep said oozing charm.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Nine and I won’t tell that woman in the corner that your whore just spit in her ale.” Dee-Ann said widening his eyes.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Make it eleven, ah’ll send two o’my prettiest girls….or boys….t’warm your bed any way yewd like.” The Barkeep said leaning forward on the bar top and winking at him. Dee-Ann fought the urge to slap the stupid man’s face, grumbling under his breath as he counted out nine pieces. As soon as he saw the coin purse, the man’s face brightened.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“Course if’n the messire’d like to order sum’in itwat…..</span> <span> <em>special</em> </span> <span>….anyfin c’n be ranged. </span> <span> <b>Anyfin</b> </span> <span>.” The Barkeep said practically licking his lips, and something in his voice made Dee-Ann shudder.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Just the room and the food.” He said, then counted out another silver piece. “See we’re not disturbed until the room is ready.” He said taking the two tankards of ale the Barkeep poured out for him and walking back to Castiel with a shiver of revulsion. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I don’t like this place.” He said sitting down and passing Castiel one of the ales.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“It is a little…..disheveled I warrant.” Castiel said looking at the tankard dubiously. “But it’s only for the one night. And it’s better than having to sleep in the rain.” He offered. Dee-Ann nodded grudgingly. In the time it had taken them to negotiate the drinks, the rain outside the window had grown heavier. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Still. We need to be watchful. We’ve attracted a lot of attention.” Dee-Ann said.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“They’re probably just in shock by how clean we are.” Castiel said ironically. It was true. Even grubby though they were, they were twice as clean as any of the other patrons. He took an experimental sip of the ale, and pulled a face that wrenched a smile out of Dee-Ann despite his mood. Though when he took a sip himself, he was sorely tempted to see if the bottle of Verneese wine was still on offer. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>* </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Their food arrived in short order.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann frowned down at the…concoction on the steel plate. It was the same basic shape as pies that he had seen before, though it seemed to be oozing some kind of thin brown gruel onto the plate, and the pie crust had been burned in one spot. Still he didn’t want to show his distaste in front of Castiel. The Prince seemed to be working hard not to comment on the state of things, but Dee-Ann could see he was struggling. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He bit into the pie and found it to be every bit as greasy and gritty as he’d expected. It seemed for every one chunk of meat there was two mouthfuls of only lard inside. But it was warm at least. Castiel followed suit, coughing thickly and reaching for his ale to help him get it down.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“What…gave birth to this?” he asked unable to keep from frowning.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Apparently it’s pork.” Dee-Ann said suspiciously. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I shan’t speculate what part of the animal we are feasting on.” Castiel said with a weak smile and Dee-Ann chuckled softly. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Nose perhaps?” he offered.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I was thinking the asshole.” Castiel said and they both chuckled.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Then resigning themselves to their fate, they finished their meals in silence.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>*</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>They sat by the fire for another span of minutes. Once their pies had been eaten, they both agreed they would need something a little stronger than ale to wash that </span> <span> <em>particular</em> </span> <span> taste out of their mouths. And after another haggling session with the Barkeep, they managed to lay their hands on some Tiger’s Milk. Dee-Ann was surprised that Castiel even knew what that was, though the Prince’s knowledge of ruffians and their ways seemed to be more comprehensive – if slightly romanticized – than Dee-Ann had expected.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He was a strange one. It seemed Castiel had traveled far and wide within the pages of books. Dee-Ann felt a familiar pang of jealousy, and swore an oath that they would resume their reading together as soon as possible. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>*</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The atmosphere in the tavern, which for all that it was crude and base was jolly in its own way, was disturbed when a young woman – no older than twenty – came bursting into the room shouting excitedly. Everyone in the tavern turned to look at the commotion.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“It’s fallen!” she shouted, sounding out of breath as if she’d been running. She was soaked through, scattering tendrils of water as she clambered up onto a small round table. “It’s fallen!” she repeated.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Calm yerself lass!” the Innkeeper yelled. “Wos fallen?”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“The Capital!” the young girl yelled excitedly. “They’s all dead! Airs been a coup! S’a revolution they as!”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Speak plain ye git!” another patron shouted. “Wot chew onnabout?”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“The city!!!” the girl shrieked bobbing in place. “It’s fallen. Queen’s dead an evryfing! Ole lottef em! Dead all! Queen’n aller kids! Dead as the day is long!” </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann’s eyes found Castiel’s. He was certain his own face wore the same look of terror as he saw reflected on the Prince’s. The room exploded into an incoherent cacophony of babbling and yelling.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Ow jew know this?” a woman shouted skeptically over the din from the across the room. Everyone quieted down.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Met a trav’ler onnaroad ah did. Proper Soldier type. Told me idn’t she?” the young girl said. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Snow moren bullshit chatter it is.” A woman balked. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“It weren’t! Onna Queen’s own nameday she said. Murdered the fat ole bitch! Drugger rotting carcass threw th’streets!” the young girl said. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann wanted to smash her teeth in with his fists. The room descended back into chaotic noise of too many voices speaking all at once. Dee-Ann looked at Castiel. His face wore an expression he could not read. They needed to go. They needed to get out of here. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Whose is traveler en? Why idn’t she telling us?” the Innkeeper boomed over the din.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Palace guard. Escaped she did. Says ey killed alla ravens. But the city’s fallen. Chaos inne streets. People’s lootin and burnin. All em highborns got theyself dun in too! E’en th’Godspeakers!” The young girl said apparently enjoying being the center of attention. “S’why th’moons gone bloody ain’t it!”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Too many people spoke at once. But the tone had shifted. All at once wild theories began to erupt, and several people began relating tales of how they had been denied access to the Capitol at the Godpost. And the general consensus quickly became that the village Godspeaker must be consulted. The young girl – by now seated in the middle of the room with a full flagon of ale – was made to retell the story of exactly what the soldier had told her many times. Each time the story became more elaborate. But Dee-Ann noted that no matter what embellishment she added, she was still well shy of the true horror that had taken place.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He looked at Castiel who looked as if he was about to explode. They hadn’t moved from their corner spot. It would be futile to try and make their way upstairs. All around them women were shouting and debating and calling for more ale. He didn’t know exactly when they had all accepted that the story was true. Only that the Innkeeper clambered onto a table herself and raised a flagon of ale.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“T’the Queen!” she shouted, and everyone raised their cups and tankards.”May shee rot in hell!”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The room exploded into thunderous applause and affirmations. Unable to bear it any longer, he grabbed Castiel by the shoulders and motioned them to move. It took longer than it ought’ve – given the celebration echoing around the room – but finally they made their way upstairs. The Barkeep had given Dee-Ann a key, and after trying a few doors, they finally found the room that had been made up for them.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>It was small, and just as run down as the rest of the place. But a fire had been lit, and freshly washed linens had been put on the bed. He locked the door behind them and turned to Castiel. The Prince seemed to be in a daze, removing his cloak and sitting down on the bed. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Castiel….” He began tentatively.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Don’t.” Castiel said. “Please. I can’t bear it.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“What they said…..” Dee-Ann began.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“It’s no less than I was expecting.” The Prince cut in. “I’m going to wash.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann watched him go through the chipped wooden door off to the side. After a few minutes Castiel emerged. His eyes were rimmed in red, but he didn’t say anything. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“There’s no bath. But at least there is a privy….though the less that’s said about that the better.” He said sitting down in the only chair and tugging at the lacings on his boots. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“I’m sorry.” Dee-Ann said because he did not know what else to say. Castiel looked up at him and Dee-Ann melted. He felt a powerful urge to go to him. To wrap him up in his arms or….to do </span> <span> <em>something</em> </span> <span> that would make this better somehow. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Thank you.” Castiel said so softly he could barely hear him. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>For a long moment the only sound is the crackling fire, and the sound of cord being drawn through loops as Castiel shucked his shoes, then his tunic, then his stockings. Dee-Ann followed suit, crudely folding his clothes and putting them in a heap at the foot of the bed. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“You were right.” Castiel said. He was so surprised at the sound that he jumped when Castiel spoke. He gave him a quizzical look. “We’ll need to be more careful. If the news that the city has fallen is beginning to spread to the outlying areas it won’t take long for rumor and conjecture to follow. Once the theory that not </span> <span> <b>all</b> </span> <span> of the Queen’s children had died gets out, everyone between here and Et-Haravellw will be on the lookout for me……Li-Illitur will have thousands of spied all throughout the land. And something this juicy will spread like maggots on a wound.”</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann said nothing. Castiel looked so small sitting there next to the fire.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“This bed is hardly large enough for two.” Dee-Ann said with a shrug. “I can sleep on the floor….” He ventured but Castiel scoffed. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Don’t be stupid.” He whispered rising out of his seat. He pulled off his shirt and added it to the pile of neatly folded clothing beside him.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann felt the lumpy mattress shift to accommodate the added weight of the Prince as he crawled into the bed. He pulled back the covers and slid underneath. Dee-Ann – feeling strangely awkward – got up to put more wood on the fire. And seeing the shape of the Prince beneath the covers, felt his face turn warm. He felt patently silly as he lay down on top of the covers, moving one arm under his pillow and closing his eyes for sleep. A moment later, he felt a flurry of activity from behind him as Castiel grunted, pulling the covers out from under Dee-Ann and throwing them over them both. The bed was very small. And there was simply nothing for it. No matter what position he tried to lay in, he found himself in contact with Castiel. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>It felt nice. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>He was not accustomed to sleeping next to anyone. Not since the long ago days when he had first been saved from the Village when he had slept in Maeghara’s tent had he felt another person so close to him. His skin tingled wherever he felt Castiel close to him. It was a strange thing. But he realized that – other than trying to kill him – it had been months – perhaps even years? – since anyone had </span> <span> <em>touched</em> </span> <span> him. Simply touched him. His skin.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He chided himself. This was hardly the moment to be indulging in such stupid thoughts. But when Castiel – apparently tired of Dee-Ann’s reticence – pointedly took hold of Dee-Ann’s left arm and pulled it around himself, Dee-Ann let him. The position brought the expanse of Castiel’s bare back against Dee-Ann’s bare chest. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>He gave in. His right arm – which had been squashed awkwardly between their heads under the pillows, he extended so it fit neatly in the hollow between Castiel’s head and his shoulder. This brought them even closer, and it felt like the most natural thing in the world to mold his legs to the back of Castiel’s. He felt a whisper of a thrill pass over him. And unbidden, his skin erupted in goose flesh as he gently moved his head forward so the very tip of his nose was touching the back of Castiel’s head. The position was more comfortable for his head. Not to mention it came with the added advantage that with every breath, his nose was filled with the scent of Castiel. There was no perfume now. No soap. Just flesh. Just skin. Just </span> <span> <em>him</em> </span> <span>. A happy sound escaped him before he could stop it. Dee-Ann tensed waiting for Castiel to react. But he didn’t.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>They were touching everywhere. He felt the heat of Castiel against his chest. He could feel the motion of him breathing. The Prince slotted almost naturally into the cage of his arms. They were touching all the way down to his toes, which were against the soft skin on the bottom of Castiel’s feet. Dee-Ann felt a stirring in his cock as he felt Castiel shift </span> <span> <em>into</em> </span> <span> the heat of their embrace, his ass molding right up against Dee-Ann’s crotch. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>If they had been naked…..</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He chastised himself. It was a sinful thing to even think. Especially after the night Castiel had had. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>But it was almost impossible not to. He could not pretend that these last weeks with the Prince had….</span> <span> <em>stirred</em> </span> <span>….something in him. Something that floated on the edges of his mind that he rarely allowed himself to dwell on. It had started that night with his dream. And there had been moments when he had had to fight hard against the things his body seemed to want.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>In front of him, he felt Castiel drifting off to sleep. His breathing was becoming deeper and more rhythmic. And feeling them sink a little deeper into the mattress, Dee-Ann was well on his way to falling asleep as well, when he felt Castiel weave his fingers in between Dee-Ann’s so he was gripping his hand tightly over his heart. Still sleeping, Castiel released what could only be described as a contented sigh. Dee-Ann smiled into his hair.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>This was the closest he had ever been to another person. Not just </span> <span> <em>any</em> </span> <span> person. To Castiel. And God see him. Whatever </span> <span> <em>this</em> </span> <span> was? He </span> <span> <b>liked</b> </span> <span> the way this felt. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0050"><h2>50. Night whispers</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello my lovelies! I know we were supposed to switch back to Castiel's perspective this chapter. But I had a little more to get out after where we ended last time round. Hope you guys enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="normal">
  <span> <em>The nameless he-brat squatted naked in front of the dying fire, holding the goat bone he had managed to steal at dinner hungrily to his lips. The meat was stringy and tough, but it was more than he had had since newsun. He could hear the Woman outside with the other women, shouting and snarling and panting as they placed bets on racing lizards and drank cactus juice. Nights like this were always the worst. </em> </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>Dee-Ann stood a little distance away behind the ancient, chipped kitchen table next to the mud brick oven. He was full grown and watching his child self. With a deep breath, he…..</span> <span> <b>shuddered</b> </span> <span>. He knew was dreaming and that he was also not. This was not a dream. It was a memory. He knew what was going to happen next.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span> <em>Outside, the dogs barked and snarled, the only warning before the door to the hovel burst open and the Woman came charging in. She was drunk. The Man cowered instantly in the farthest corner of the hovel, next to the ragged bed where they slept. The Woman snarled something at her before, hearing the nameless he-brat scrabbling to his own hiding place under the table, grabbed him by one bony, scabbed ankle. The goat bone fell from his grip and the Woman roared her outrage, heaving him by the ankle up over her head…</em> </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann wanted to close his eyes. He wanted to look away. The Woman was about to hurl him against the wall. Many of his bones had broken, and he would spend the next five days delirious in the Godhouse while the Village Godspeaker passed a healing stone over his wounds and forbade the Woman from drinking for two Godmoons. She had beaten Dee-Ann daily for those two Godmoons until she was allowed to get drunk again.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>Just as she was about to deliver the bone shattering blow, something…</span> <span> <b>changed! </b> </span> <span>The scene did not play out the way he remembered it. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span> <em>From behind them, a figure appeared. Not the Man. He was too cowardly and crying and useless and stupid to ever resist the Woman. Instead a new person was standing there. Dee-Ann could not see the figure’s face before </em> </span> <span> <em>huge </em> </span> <span> <b> <em>wings</em> </b> </span> <span> <em> made of pure white light stretched out to fill every inch of space in the hovel. They flapped…once…</em> </span> <span> <b> <em>twice!!!!</em> </b> </span> <span> <em> And the Woman flew against the wall. The he-brat fell at the Angel’s feet, and those wings came down to enfold his tiny frame.</em> </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann watched transfixed. And suddenly, he was the figure cradled in the Angel’s arms and surrounded by those glowing wings.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span> <em>He was surrounded by warmth as a familiar voice boomed out into the kitchen where the Woman lay, banishing her to Hell. The angel wrapped his arms around Dee-An, and just as he turned his green eyes to look at the ethereal face, he woke…</em> </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>*</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He woke to find Castiel’s concerned face right in front of his. He was bewildered and confused for a moment, half asleep and half waking. He was covered in sweat, but he could still feel the Angel’s wings wrapped around him. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>A moment later he realized, it was Castiel who was holding him. Sometime in the night Castiel had turned around and it was Dee-Ann who was wrapped in his arms now. Castiel stared at him with concern. And sniffing hard through his nose, Dee-Ann realized he was speaking. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“…..you alright?” the Prince said. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann panted, shaking off the last dregs of the dream. That had been unlike anything that had ever happened to him before.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I’m sorry……” he stammered. “I did not mean…….”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The words died in his throat and a fresh wave of remembered fear washed over him. He felt the salty sting of tears clinging to his eyes and he tried feverishly to blink them away. He began to disentangle himself from Castiel. He wanted to run. He wanted to leave. He wanted to be away. He didn’t want Castiel to see him like this. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The Prince seemed to divine his intentions a second before Dee-Ann could make them flesh.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel rolled his eyes, and Dee-Ann felt the Prince tighten his hold around his body and he was drawn flush up against Castiel’s chest with surprising force. His first instinct was to resist, but the heat pooling there between them was deliciously inviting. Before he could think too much about it, Dee-Ann buried his face in Castiel’s shoulder and sighed as he felt Castiel move his hands in slow circles over the damp skin of his back. It was a soothing gesture. Something one might do for an animal frightened of a storm. Castiel was murmuring as well, speaking small words and whispering to him that everything was fine, enticing him to fall back asleep.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann knew he should pull back. They should not be lying like this. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He was not some mewling thing to be coddled and tamed. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He had never lain like this with anyone in his life. And now he had chosen Castiel, who was a man.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Men didn’t lie like this together. Did they?</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>No. He should end this. Whatever this was.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>But it felt so </span> <span> <em>good</em> </span> <span>. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>And selfishly, he let himself lay there for a just a handful of minutes more; long enough for his heart to stop hammering against his chest, and for his breathing to even out. He felt the beginnings of sleep begin to creep into his flesh. Not enough that he was drowsing. Just comfortable and warm.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span> <em>Safe. </em> </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The word echoed in his mind from far away. Maeghara had taught him that word. He had believed her. He had trusted her so completely with everything in his soul that safe became interchangeable with her name. The woman Bara-Bhur had said he would be safe with them in their Caravan. The Bitch Chaala had promised him he would be safe if he played along with her lies. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>All of them had betrayed him. Hateful. Sinful. Demonstruck women who spun nothing but lies and pain and hatred into the world and called it safety.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>This felt different.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>Somehow, Dee-Ann </span> <span> <em>knew</em> </span> <span>….here, in this moment; he was safe. Safe in Castiel’s arms. He didn’t know how to explain it, even to himself. But laying there in a threadbare bed, in a dirty brothel of a tiny Fishing Village……Dee-Ann felt something deep inside him….uncoil. Something whose tightness he had grown so used to it had become natural. Like a scar in his mind that had healed without him noticing. It terrified him. And yet he did not pull away. If anything he clung to the Prince tighter. If Castiel minded, he did not show it. Their legs were tangled too. And Dee-Ann felt Castiel shuffle just that tiny incremental inch closer so that they were perfectly aligned.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>He leaned his cheek in the hollow of Castiel’s neck, </span> <span> <em>feeling</em> </span> <span> the Prince slipping further down the path to sleep, the soft puffs of his breathing escaping along Castiel’s collar bone. He could smell Castiel’s skin but it was not so strong now. He must have grown used to it while they slept. He would smell like Castiel as well now. His skin. A dog would not be able to distinguish between them now. Castiel would carry his scent, and Dee-Ann would carry his. At least until it faded. He looked up at Castiel. By the firelight dancing over them he was </span> <span> <em>beautiful</em> </span> <span>. Every dip and curve and line of his face was thrown into sharp relief as the light danced over his delicate features. Dee-Ann had to physically stop himself from bringing up his hand and tracing the curve of his very dark with his finger. He wanted to. He wanted to feel the strong line of his jaw and the carved nose against his fingertip. In sleep, Castiel’s mouth was slightly parted and Dee-Ann found his eyes dragged to the supple skin of his lips. His beautiful soft lips. He could just see a glint of light off one of his teeth inside his mouth. And for a moment he imagine pressing a finger in between those lips.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>It would be warm in there. Warm and soft and wet and…..</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He ripped his thoughts away from such things, even though for some inexplicable reason his cock gave a twitch against Castiel’s thigh at the image of Castiel’s lips stretched tight around….his finger? Or perhaps even……..God!!! What was wrong with him?</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>He chastised himself for even thinking such a thing. And yet…..curiously….though he felt a certain brand of </span> <span> <em>guilt</em> </span> <span>…..he felt no disgust. None. He remembered the Woman in the Village, panting and slavering like a dog as she fucked the Man. He remembered his revulsion when she’d made the Man lick her cunt. He had heard plenty of other such stories in the Caravan with the Bitch Bara-Bhur. But he had taken it as natural. That fucking was something a man had to bear and survive in order to please women. He had never heard much talk of men </span> <span> <em>enjoying</em> </span> <span> it. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>He remembered the bitch Chaala. She had called herself something. He could not remember the word. She had no interest in cock. And she had made it seem as if there were others who thought the same. Both women </span> <span> <em>and</em> </span> <span> men. Dee-Ann abandoned the line of thinking. He did not want to ponder such strange and disturbing questions now. Not now when he was wrapped in delicious warm heat and soft skin and felt so, so, </span> <span> <em>safe</em> </span> <span>. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>He found himself wondering behind closed eyes. Would he have felt this way pressed up against Maeghara? If Castiel had been a woman? He did not think so. Was it then because it was a </span> <span> <em>man</em> </span> <span> who was holding him? Is that what made it feel so different? Or was it that it was </span> <span> <em>this</em> </span> <span> man?</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>This Castiel. This Prince who he knew so little and yet…... </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel who could summon the God’s own fire…..but did not burn. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel who had lost everything and everyone he’d ever known or loved…..but had not lost his smile.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel who had more than once flouted the God’s laws and committed stoning since…..but yet stood unsmitten.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>Castiel who had never </span> <span> <b>promised</b> </span> <span> him anything? And therefore could not break that promise?</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He did not know. He was already asleep.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>*</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The next time he woke all spectre of the night’s strangeness had passed, and Dee-Ann found he felt surprisingly well rested. He was alone in the bed. Pushing himself up onto his elbows, he glanced around the room. Castiel was nowhere in sight, and his side of the bed had grown cold. Dee-Ann frowned. The room was dim and dark. The fire had burned itself out, and the light that leaked in through the streaked window was weak and pale. It was still very early. Where had Castiel gone?</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He did not know if he regretted that the Prince was no longer there, wrapped around him, or if he was glad for it.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>By the light of day it might have been awkward. But Dee-Ann thought he would have liked to have him there, if only to ensure that things between them had not frayed. He rolled over onto his back, scrubbing his hands over his face and through his hair to try and coax himself to full wakefulness. In the still grey dawn, he realized his cock was hard as stone. It had many days since he had had a chance to spill his seed, and just then his cock was letting him know just how many indeed. He looked around the room, before pulling his leggings down and taking himself in hand. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The Prince could return at any moment. But somehow that added to the thrill. His cock sang as his hand worked his smooth foreskin feverishly, and his cock was already dribbling clear fluid from this slit. He gathered it onto his thumb and spread it over his swollen and aching cockhead. His face grew hot and his breath left him in short huffs. His free hand fisted the blanket and his toes curled in the sheets as the delicious tightness formed in his spine and he flew over the edge of his climax with a soft cry. Thick ropes of seed spilled onto his hand and he slumped against the pillows, feeling tranquil and satisfied as the thundering in his head subsided and he let his still swollen cock fall against his belly. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Eventually returning to himself, he wiped his soiled hand on the bed sheet, using it to mop his seed off his belly. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, hitching up his legging and walking into the privy. It was a small, dark room made up entirely of the same cheap planks as the tavern downstairs. Lifting the lid of the privy, his nose was assailed by a dreadful smell of shit as he pished into it.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He jumped as the door to the room opened behind him and Castiel came walking in. Unbidden, Dee-Ann felt his face grow hot as blood rushed to his face!</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>God! If he had come in thirty seconds before…………</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Dee-Ann?” Castiel asked into the room.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“In here.” Dee-Ann called back, closing the lid of the privy. There was no tap to feed fresh water here, only a chipped pitcher and a small basin. He poured some of the icy water over his hands before emptying the basin into the privy as well. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>When he walked into the room Castiel stood, fully dressed holding two pitchers of ale and what appeared to two small loaves of bread and a few apples in a bowl. Castiel smiled at him. His eyes were bright and he looked well rested, his damp hair pulled back tightly from his face and freshly braided to fall like a snake down his back.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Good morning.” He said. “You looked so peaceful, I didn’t want to wake you. So I decided to go downstairs to see if I could lay hands on some breakfast. This is all I could find that wasn’t another one of those awful pork pies. But the ale is warm.” He added sounding almost embarrassed. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann felt awkward being near naked with Castiel standing there fully dressed. He crossed the room quickly and began dressing himself quickly. “You’re up early.” Dee-Ann commented not meeting Castiel’s eyes. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I woke with the dawn. A new habit apparently.” Castiel said pleasantly around a mouthful of apple. “Did you sleep?”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>Dee-Ann could hear the question behind the question: </span> <span> <em>‘Are you alright? Are you feeling better?’</em> </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He knew Castiel must have been curious about what Dee-Ann had been dreaming. But he did not think he wanted to tell him about it. Both because by the light of day, the idea of being scared of the Woman in that faraway Village in the Savage East was stupid. But also because he did not think he wanted Castiel to picture him as that nameless he-brat.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“Yes I slept very well. You?” Dee-Ann asked. It was his turn to ask a question without words: </span> <span> <em>‘Did you mind that I curled up against you like a scared dog in the night?’</em> </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Oh yes. I was actually surprised how good I felt when I woke….” Castiel said with a small nod. “What a difference a bed makes hmm?” </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann nodded, tugging his tunic over his shirt. He took the meaning behind Castiel’s words to be that he was at the very least not angry with Dee-Ann. And he was grateful that Castiel spoke no more of the other thing. Dee-Ann did not yet know his own mind about half of what had passed between them in the night, and he thought any outright discussion would lead them to a realm of intimacies that would only make him….uncomfortable. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He wanted time. Time to sit and think on all of this. To examine those thoughts that had sprung up in him when he’d felt the Prince’s arms close around him. But he knew that would have to wait. Any of these village peasants who had not heard the big news last night would certainly be told once the sun day began proper. They needed to be well rid of this place by then. As soon as he had finished dressing, he quickly munched his way through an apple and tucked the loaf of bread into his pocket. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“We need to see about buying a horse.” Castiel said tentatively. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“The most likely place in a Village this size would be the Godhouse. But I do not think we should risk it.” Dee-Ann said. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“How so?” Castiel asked. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“The people will want confirmation of what that girl was saying. The surest way to do that is to ask the Godspeaker to make sacrifice and read the omens.” He explained and Castiel nodded his understanding. “But if what we saw on the road here holds true, the God will not answer them. It will reject their offerings like it rejected…..” he trailed off, not wanting to finish the sentence. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>Castiel nodded gravely. “That will only lead to a mob of wild speculation and confusion.” He said. “On foot then. Et-Theramore isn’t that far. I say we stock up on provisions and continue as we have been. With any luck we will reach the city before the weather turns </span> <span> <em>too</em> </span> <span> bad. And we can outfit ourselves properly from there.”</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann nodded. He was not certain either of felt quite so optimistic as they were pretending. But for the moment he did not see the use in pointing out every harsh truth. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“One thing though. We will need to become more convincing in our story. We made it through last night with luck and a little cunning. But if we are to avoid attracting too much of the wrong kind of attention, </span> <span> <em>Vortka</em> </span> <span> and </span> <span> <em>Zandakar</em> </span> <span> must become more than just names. We will need to be prepared for more in depth questioning.” Castiel said soliciting a nod from Dee-Ann. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“You are the only one who has any real knowledge of Traders and their ways. You’ll need to teach me.” Castiel said. Dee-Ann nodded, trying and failing to keep his hesitance off his face. Trying to remember such details would mean delving into memories he would much sooner avoid. Though he saw the truth in the Prince’s words. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I’ll meet you downstairs.” Castiel said, gathering up his cloak and walking out of the room. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann finished the remaining apple, and tightening the lacings on his boots made his way to the door. His eyes lingered for a moment on the unmade bed, before closing the rickety wooden door behind him.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0051"><h2>51. The long and winding road....</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="normal"><span>The rain hammering down on the village of Auberdine had not abated by the time Castiel and Dee-Ann were ready to set off. </span> <span> <em>The Anchor Point</em> </span> <span> was – as predicted – already filling with a mob of overly excited women. Castiel felt certain as they descended the stairs that every house in the tiny Village would by now have been told of the fate of Et-Novakar. And though he had been expecting the vultures to be drawn to such a bloody and spectacular corpse, he did not appreciate the ever growing chorus of: “May she rot in hell!” every time two women slammed their ale together.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He had no illusions as to what kind of woman his mother had been. And he would have to have been a particularly potent kind of stupid to imagine that – by extension – the peasants of Et-Novakar held her extended family in any higher esteem. But thinking of Gabriel, and all his other brothers and sisters….brutally slain for the crime of having been born Royal….seeing people actively celebrating the event tore at something in his chest. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>He stopped at the bar to pick up the parcel he’d asked the Barkeep to prepare for him. She had assured him that nothing would be open in the Village with the hullabaloo today, so it would be best if he took some provisions from </span> <span> <em>her</em> </span> <span> instead. Against his better judgement – and he was certain for a price that would cross a Godspeaker’s eye – he had bought four of her infamous pork pies wrapped tightly in butcher’s paper, a small bag of reasonably fresh apples, six small loaves of mostly unburned bread and a dubious looking tin of grey stew he hoped they wouldn’t have to resort to. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He moved along the walls as much as possible, aiming for the door. The whores were already starting to circle about the crowded room and he didn’t much relish a repeat of some of the tableau’s he’d witnessed the night before. He tried to listen to the snatches of conversation as he passed by groups of women, though for the most part it seemed like nothing more than wild speculation and the odd insane theory. He was greeted at the entry by the Innkeeper, who sketched him a broken smile when she saw him. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Not finkin ta goo ut’n is is ye?” she asked pointing at the door where the rain was hammering down as ever. “S’pissin down cats’n dogs.” She paused to spit a rather a large wad of chewing tobacco into a spittoon set in the corner for – Castiel imagined – exactly this purpose. “Better yee an yer fine messire stay n’hee whereas naas’n warm.” She added with a suggestive leer, cocking her head at the curtain which Castiel remembered led to the couches full of whores.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel nodded with a shrug. “Tempting.” Castiel said with a small smile. “But I’m afraid we are on a tight schedule. We cannot be delayed by a bit of rain.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>Dee-Ann appeared at his left then as if sent directly from heaven. They made polite noises at the Innkeep who was still trying to sell them a quick “pump” – as she had called it – before wading out into the abominable weather. Castiel shook himself as he raised his hood and they stepped outside. At his earliest convenience, everything he wore would be burned. And they’d probably need a delousing. With a determined grunt, he stepped into the deluge. He never wanted to set foot in such a place ever again. Though he knew the likelihood of </span> <span> <em>that</em> </span> <span> was about on par with him spontaneously sprouting a pair of wings and flying them to Et-Haravelle. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He could never in a million years have imagined such a place. And these people. This was their life? It was a sobering thought. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Overhead, the sky was tar black, and the rain continued to pummel them mercilessly as they stepped off onto the slender main road of the town that would take them to the Gate. He could not suppress a gasp of surprise as his foot sank much deeper into the mud than he was expecting. With a sick, wet squelching sound he watched in horror as the mud closed over his foot. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Come on.” Dee-Ann said loudly. “It’s only going to get worse.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>All other opportunity for conversation was lost in the sound of the hammering rain as he followed Dee-Ann’s grey shape – all but indistinguishable from the wall of rain – back in the direction of the village gate. As expected, none of the storefronts they passed were open. Castiel trudged along as best he could. But with the mud clinging to his feet, it felt as if they weighed a ton. And the length of the cloak was also impeding him. Having sunk a few extra inches into the mud, its heavy folds kept flapping about him almost bat like. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>It was slightly easier going once they were out of the Village and on the Queen’s road. The heavy packed stones that made up the road were covered in puddles and small streams of rainwater, but they had been laid with a slight curve which sloped down at the sides. This had been done specifically to discourage rain from settling in pools on the road itself. That way spelled disaster. Standing pools of water could go fetid, or worse yet; freeze into black ice. It only took one slip to shatter a horse’s leg. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>After a brief discussion, the two of them remained on the Queen’s Road for most of that day. The forest on either side looked uninviting. The mud would be waist deep in some places. They would be unable to tell the difference between a patch of mud sturdy enough to walk on, or a sinkhole that would swallow them whole. And Dee-Ann had warned that – in this deluge – wild animals would seek refuge in exactly the same kinds of places that he and Castiel might. The last thing they wanted was to come across a wolf or a bear or even a frightened stag.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>So they walked. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>Castiel tried to distract himself from how completely and utterly soaked, freezing and miserable he was by listing all the major Houses they were likely to encounter between here and Et-Haravelle. He listed their crests, their words and what each House was most known for. He needed the brush up. Their time in the village of Auberdine had told him beyond any shadow of a doubt that neither he nor Dee-Ann could convincingly pass themselves off as a true peasant. That meant that they would have to move in slightly better circles whenever they were in a village or town or city of sufficient size. Perhaps even interact with Nobles. He knew therein lay a host of other potential dangers, but there was nothing for it. If all they had to look forward to was a series of places like </span> <span> <em>The Anchor Point </em> </span> <span>he’d fling himself on the nearest soldier’s blade. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>*</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The rain never abated that day. Or the next. And the sun never fully came out. Instead they walked in a sea of pea soup that reduced the world to only a few feet ahead and behind them as they trudged along. There were moments when Castiel couldn’t take it any longer and he would feed power into his tattoos and banish all moisture from their clothes and even spin a small globe of heat around them that prevented the rain from reaching them. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>But Dee-Ann had chastised him loudly the third time he had done it. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Aaaaaiiiiieeeee!!!! You stupid man! What if someone saw you?” he said. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I know….” Castiel whined slopping his gloved hand over his waterlogged head. “I’m sorry.” He continued, his soaked braid slapping about him like a whip as he tried to order the heavy folds of his cloak in a way that didn’t impede his movements.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>His voice was tired. That was the other thing. Blessed though the reprieve from the constant assault of the clouds overhead was, maintaining the little pocket of heat for any length of time fatigued him greatly. Despite some of the more….</span> <span> <em>outlandish</em> </span> <span>….things he had done recently, Castiel was not accustomed to using his powers in such strange and inventive ways. For most of his life all he had done was use it to light pre-built fires or the odd lantern of oil.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann’s eyes softened and he led the way off the Queen’s Road and into the forest. The ground beneath their feet was rocky, and there were thick tree roots peeking out through the mud. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Over here.” Dee-Ann said, pointing to an enormous Weeping Willow that grew a little ways away. “It won’t keep the rain out entirely but….it’ll be much dryer. We can rest here for the night. The tent will do us no favours.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“You want to stop?” Castiel asked trying and failing not to sound hopeful.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I’m tired.” Dee-Ann said smoothly. Castiel stuck his tongue out at him and gave him a – completely put on – murderous look. Dee-Ann would walk through the night. This was entirely for Castiel’s benefit. And he was grateful.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel breathed a sigh of relief as he stepped through the thick canopy of hanging branches Dee-Ann held aside for him. As expected, the trunk of the ancient tree was thick and tall. Here the earth was more damp than wet, and there were even – Castiel suspected – parts of the trunk that were completely dry. It was an oasis. Hidden by the thick curtain of branches there was also a wonderful sense of privacy. Almost cosy.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann clambered skilfully into the tree, nearly swatting Castiel in the face with the muddy hem of his cloak. He leaned down and held out a hand to Castiel. “Come on. It’s much dryer up here.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“I….uh….I don’t…..” Castiel began, then nodded and accepted Dee-Ann’s outstretched hand. He felt Dee-Ann foist him up and Castiel looked for anywhere to put his feet. It took some doing, but eventually Castiel found himself seated on a wide branch about six feet off the ground. Dee-Ann had clambered a little higher and was seated on a branch of his own. Castiel blushed. So </span> <span> <em>this</em> </span> <span> was climbing a tree. He did not want to admit as much to Dee-Ann, but he had never done this before. Even as a child he had not been allowed to indulge in such silliness and truth be told he would never have managed it in a stomacher. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Is there any food?” Dee-Ann asked. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“Pork pie.” Castiel suggested giving his shoulders a little shake and smiling broadly as if this was a particular treat he’d prepared </span> <span> <em>just</em> </span> <span> for Dee-Ann. Dee-Ann chuckled at him, scrubbing his hands through his hair, sending a spray of droplets flying. Reaching around his back, Castiel slid the pack onto his hip and rummaged inside. The butcher’s paper was cold, but thankfully dry as he unwrapped the pies. He reached for the top one, greasy and inviting as ever; and stripped off his left glove. Holding the pie in his palm, it took only a small infusion of </span> <span> <em>power</em> </span> <span> to coax some heat into the pastry. Before long, the pie was steaming and some of the grease dribbling out of it had crisped to the base. Satisfied, Castiel handed it to Dee-Ann, before repeating the process for himself. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“How long till Et-Theramore?” Dee-Ann asked wiping his chin after a particularly large first bite. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I’d say two days. But the storm is slowing us down.” Castiel said tucking into his own pie. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Hopefully it’ll rain itself out soon. It’s what comes after I’m worried about.” Dee-Ann said. Castiel nodded. It had been just shy of a month since they had left Et-Novakar. And the nights were getting colder. He plotted out the journey in his mind, remembering the map he had had in his chambers in Et-Novakar. He sighed. Oh to have thought to grab it when he’d left his rooms! He traced the cities and roads and rivers in his mind. This journey would easily take another month. More even. Which meant they would be in the dead of winter by the time they arrived in Et-Haravelle. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He was drawn from his thoughts when he noticed Dee-Ann staring at him. He quirked him a small smile and the blond man looked away. Castiel popped the last bite of pie into his mouth, swallowing it down with a swig of wine from a bladder and dabbing at his chin. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>They hadn’t had much opportunity for conversation in the last few days. The rain saw to that, and usually by the time they quit for the night, they were both so miserable, crabby and exhausted that they simply went to sleep. But Castiel could’ve sworn he had noticed something…strange. Dee-Ann had taken to looking at him, almost staring; for long periods of time. And more than that, he seemed to be </span> <span> <em>watching</em> </span> <span> him. Several times on the road or in the night, he had become aware of Dee-Ann’s eyes on him. He never said anything. And as soon as he saw that Castiel had noticed, he would look away. But before long….he’d be watching him again. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel did not know what to make of this. It didn’t feel angry, or confrontational. If anything it seemed almost friendly. And inquisitive. As if Dee-Ann was conducting some internal survey. Or like he was gathering information about Castiel. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Whatever his logic, he did not share it with Castiel. He just wore his inscrutable expression as usual. Castiel smiled to himself. He did not mind Dee-Ann looking. It made him feel somewhat better about all but gawking at Dee-Ann every chance he got. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>The memory of Dee-Ann pressed up against him in </span> <span> <em>The Anchor Point</em> </span> <span> was not one Castiel was likely to forget any time soon. He still worried about what demons plagued Dee-Ann’s dreams but it had felt improper to ask. Every man has a right to his own secrets, and if Dee-Ann wanted to him to know, he would tell him in his own time. What had come after though.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>Castiel lowered his eyes. He knew he was the worst kind of selfish bastard ever to draw breath…but he was secretly gleeful for Dee-Ann’s nightmare. Not because he wanted him to suffer such terror, but because upon waking Dee-Ann had clung to him like a drowning man, burying his face in Castiel’s chest and letting him hold him. Castiel had even dared to indulge in stroking his hands up and down Dee-Ann’s back and into his hair; feeling Dee-Ann mould his body to his in a way that felt so </span> <span> <em>right</em> </span> <span> even this guilty feeling that he had “taken advantage” could not make him regret it. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He wanted to bury his face in his hands, instead he pulled his braid over his shoulder so he could tug on it.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>Light </span> <span> <em>blind</em> </span> <span> him. Light burn him into a crisp.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>There was a word for this.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>For the things he was letting himself think.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>For the things he was letting himself </span> <span> <em>feel</em> </span> <span>.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>And that word? </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span> <b> <em>Dangerous</em> </b> </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>*</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>As the rain continued to fall around them, Dee-Ann devised a cunning plan to make a small fire inside one of the boughs of the tree. It was lined with mud and stones and a thick layer of mulched leaves; so it was no danger of setting the entire tree alight. Although Castiel suspected, a person dipped in pitch would have difficulty burning in this torrent of rain.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>When everything had been readied Castiel spent a few hilarious moments watching Dee-Ann try to coax a spark out of his soaking strikestone. Eventually cottoning on to his smile, Dee-Ann shot him a glare that had no malice, and motioned to the small pile of twigs and leaves. Castiel scooted closer on his branch and curled his fingers with a flourish. Thin motes of smoke began to dribble from the twigs, and no more than five heartbeats later, the fire had sprung to life.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>Dee-Ann looked at the fire, then at Castiel with awe. “How do you </span> <span> <em>do </em> </span> <span>that?” he asked with a childlike expression as if it had only just occurred to him to ask such a thing.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>Castiel shrugged. “I’m not entirely sure.” He admitted. “It’s just always been….</span> <span> <em>there</em> </span> <span>.” he said. “Most of the people in my family could do it.”</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Not all?” Dee-Ann asked. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Some are less powerful than others I should say.” Castiel said fighting to find the right words. “Gabriel could heat a bowl of soup if he held it in his hands, or perhaps light a candle. But nothing beyond that. My sister Anna was….incredible.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“These help.” He continued, pulling back his sleeve to reveal his tattoos. “They’re sacred spells hammered into our flesh. Different but of a similar principal to those used by Godspeakers.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann listened with rapt attention. “Can you teach me?” he asked.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I’m not sure that’s how it works.” Castiel said sorrowful. “But why would I need to? You can already do some wondrous things on your own.” He said remembering the Godbreath dribbling from his nose.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I can do nothing.” Dee-Ann said seriously. “It is the God’s power. It sees me in its eye and loans me its power when I need it most. It knows I am its Slave.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Ah.” Castiel said, not wanting to launch Dee-Ann into a long sermon. “So you never did anything….out of the ordinary before? As a child perhaps?”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann barked a harsh laugh. An ugly, snorting sort of a sound like a cackle. He felt his eyes widen, and Dee-Ann waved his hand in apology. “Forgive me. If you had seen the place where I was born you would not say such a thing!” he said amidst still shaking shoulders.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Tell me of it.” Castiel urged. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann smiled again, though this time his eyes were tinged with sadness. “No.” he said. “It is not for Royal ears.” </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>It was Castiel’s turn to laugh, raising his arms to indicate the tree. “Given the illustrious state of my Queendom…I am tempted to agree. Stories of your childhood would surely ruin the elegant atmosphere.” </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann held his eyes for a long time. He was waiting to see if Castiel was joking with him. Then as if some lever had been thrown in his mind, he shrugged. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“If the Village I was born into had a name no one ever told it to me. No one ever spoke to He-brats in that village. It was a cursed place right on the edge of the Anvil….” He began. Castiel almost gasped. The </span> <span> <em>Anvil</em> </span> <span>?! Light see him. He knew of it of course. It was rumoured to be a terrible, harsh place full of terrible, savage people. But he didn’t dare interrupt so he kept his musings to himself.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“The woman…uh….my </span> <span> <em>mother</em> </span> <span>…” Dee-Ann said, speaking as if the words tasted foul in his mouth. “…raised Goats. Or at least, pretended to. She was terrible at that. Most of the stupid animals died and by the end of the season, she would have more of her cursed dogs than goats. She </span> <span> <em>lived</em> </span> <span> to rest. She was </span> <span> <b>born</b> </span> <span> tired. Always shouting and moaning when she had to do anything but eat and shit and fuck and drink. Half the women in the Village would already be in the fields when she would come stumbling out of the hovel…head thick from Cactus Juice and piss running down her thighs….”</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel could not help but cringe at the image. “She sounds charming.” He said.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Then I’m telling it wrong.” Dee-Ann said seriously. Castiel smiled at him.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I was joking.” He said helpfully and Dee-Ann nodded. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“She sold all the other He-brats the Man…uh….my </span> <span> <em>father</em> </span> <span> whelped. But her hands could no hold silver. She would spend it all in less than one fat Godmoon and then return to her shouting and blaming of others. She hated he-brats. She hated the Man.”</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel listened, feeling his heart break for the child Dee-Ann. Light blind him. Had there been no one in his life that had ever shown him any softness? Any love?</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“Then came the day she sold me.” Dee-Ann said softly. His eyes had grown dark and Castiel could see he was looking deep into the past. “My eyes had never seen anything so </span> <span> <em>wonderful</em> </span> <span> as the Traders who came. Maeghara stood taller than anyone in that Village.”</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>At this Castiel sat up. “Trader Maeghara? And Derubeis of Et-Banotaj?” he asked. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“You </span> <span> <em>know</em> </span> <span> them?” Dee-Ann asked looking shocked. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I’ve heard their names surely. My mother had a fondness for mining information and gossip from Traders who travelled far and wide.” He said, trying desperately to summon the face. Dee-Ann nodded as if this was not news to him. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I would have killed myself if she had found me displeasing.” Dee-Ann said with no irony. Castiel’s eyes widened. “I had already decided. I would have cut my flesh and given myself to the dogs to tear apart if she left me in that Village.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“But she didn’t.” Castiel said quickly, not wanting to form the picture in his mind too clearly.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“No.” Dee-Ann said with a smile. “She saw what Stupid Derubeis could not. She saved me.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“You don’t like this Derubeis very much do you?” Castiel asked with a smile at the way Dee-Ann’s eyes bulged with disgust. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“Tcha! She was a stupid, Godcursed woman if ever there was one! Always moaning about everything! The sky was too blue. The grass was too green. The sadsa was too sweet. The meat was too tough. And </span> <span> <em>amulets</em> </span> <span>….” He broke off to pull another face, making Castiel chuckle anew. “….she never met a living thing she loved so much as an amulet. She was always kissing rings and touching things to her forehead when she wasn’t </span> <span> <em>moaning</em> </span> <span> about something else!”</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Aiiiiieeeeee Mega!” Dee-Ann said, making his voice high and pulling his face into a forlorn mask. Castiel laughed out loud. “Must we camp here? Can we not find a better place? Can the Camels not be sold for horses? My buttocks are paining! Aiiieeee Mega! Must we travel so hard? We have had nothing but corncakes for three days!”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Was she fat?” Castiel asked. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“No.” Dee-Ann said, his voice returning to normal. “She should have been! But the only thing she was good for other than complaining was stopping the Caravan so she could shit! She shit four times a day if we were lucky! Great big mountains of shit!”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel laughed harshly, then controlled himself.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“We could have planted her in the ground and grown another one just like her!” Dee-Ann said, seeing Castiel’s laughter and continuing with the joke.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>*</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The rain continued to fall. But within the curtain of the Willow’s branches, a sound not often heard in these parts cut through the rain. Laughter.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“You are lying to me.” Castiel said shooting Dee-Ann a dubious look.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“It’s true! She would feed that </span> <span> <em>stupid</em> </span> <span> monkey cherry tarts! And Dates! And grapes! And pieces of meat! While the slaves below the stairs suffered on corn mush and dry bread!” Dee-Ann said hissing his hatred of the monkey for the umpteenth time. He had warmed to the tale now, using his arms and his voice and his face to paint a picture for Castiel. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>It was an almost impossible tale. Castiel was enraptured. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“No wonder it was such a vicious little thing if she spoiled it so.” Castiel said. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Tcha! I would’ve killed it a thousand times over if I could have caught it. But the monster was always too fast! It would shit on my bed and when I tried to catch it, it would run straight to Derubeis and he would cry: “Oh my poor little Hooli!”” Dee-Ann continued, by now performing anything Derubeis said in his signature high pitched voice and forlorn expression. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>Silence fell then, and they both smiled. Castiel could tell they were at a point in the tale he did </span> <span> <em>not</em> </span> <span> relish speaking about. By Castiel’s mental calculations, whatever had seen him separated from the Traders and set him on the path that led to this tree was about to take place. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“You don’t have to tell me.” Castiel said softly. “If you don’t want to. Some things are…difficult to remember. If anyone knows that it’s me.” He continued. He desperately wanted to hear the rest of Dee-Ann’s tale, but there was no sense poking at wounds that clearly not healed. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“It is nothing.” Dee-Ann said with a small shake of the head. “The past is past. It cannot hurt me now.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>That was a lie. They both knew it. But Castiel felt no need to say so.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“You cared for her very deeply.” Castiel put in. “Maeghara?”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“I thought so. I thought she’d saved me. I thought she loved me. I thought she meant to make of me a Trader, and take me to husband.” Dee-Ann said. Castiel’s heart bled for him. It was a child’s fantasy of course. But one he could forgive Dee-Ann for thinking. “I was stupid. I thought because </span> <span> <b>I</b> </span> <span> loved </span> <span> <em>her</em> </span> <span>, that she must love me in return.”</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel felt a prick at that. Yes. Stupid indeed……</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“But never more than coin in her eyes. Living, breathing, reading, dancing coin that she would put into her basket once she sold me.” Dee-Ann said with such resentment and bitterness he was surprised the flames did not roar to life.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“But that is how I came to be in Et-Novakar.” Dee-Ann said looking at Castiel with a wide, beautiful smile. Castiel could not help but chuckle.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“The food alone makes it worth it.” Castiel said and they both chuckled. The last of the pies eaten, they had had to delve into the stew. “Apologies that I have no monkey to torment you.” </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann laughed his deep, throaty laughter that held all the joy in the world. It was a sound that Castiel could roll around naked in. Like a warm hand reaching into his chest to squeeze his heart. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“For what it’s worth…” Castiel began. “</span> <span> <b>I</b> </span> <span> am glad you’re here.” </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>He did not know what he expected Dee-Ann to say to </span> <span> <em>that</em> </span> <span>. But he wanted to say it. Even if it was only the once. Because it was true. He had no idea where he’d be without Dee-Ann, and he didn’t want to. Their lives were in so much peril. And he had no idea what else this journey would yield. But he wanted Dee-Ann to know he had at least one person who cared for him.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“It’s worth a lot.” Dee-Ann said honestly, his eyes fair burning into Castiel’s. “And besides…..” he trailed off. “There’s nowhere I would rather be.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel felt a stinging in his eyes. Blinking it away, he looked down at his lap; where the mostly untouched stew sat cooling in the lid of the tin. “Because of the stew?” he asked with a grin. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“Oh </span> <span> <em>only </em> </span> <span> because of the stew.” Dee-Ann said and they chuckled again.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>They finished their “meal” in silence, packed everything away, and settled in to sleep. Castiel did not know what the dawn would bring. But that was tomorrow’s problem. For now he could allow himself to just enjoy this for as long as it lasted.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <strong>
    <em>
      <span>Dangerous!</span>
    </em>
  </strong>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">So what?</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>It would be morning soon enough.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0052"><h2>52. Lines in the sand</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello my lovelies. Just a quick update to get us where we need to go.</p><p>***TRIGGER WARNING***</p><p>There is a scene towards the end of the Chapter describing some violence and an attempted non-con scene!</p><p>Nothing too hectic. Just wanted to warn you guys!</p><p>Enjoy!</p><p>*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="normal">
  <span>The morning was cold, and miserable as predicted. But for the first time in what felt like a historic age, the sky had ceased its relentless weeping. Thin grey light dribbled through the clouds as they’d set off. Without the rain they had covered a decent amount of distance that first day. And once the earth had had a chance to drain some of its moisture, they abandoned the Queen’s road again and travelled through the woods. Over the course of the next five days, they made excellent time; both determined to make up for the time they’d lost hiding from the rain. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The morning of the sixth day, saw a bank of fog rolling in so thick they could scarcely see ten feet ahead of them. And as night gave way to morning, the air was cut by a sound all but unheard in these parts.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>The sound….of </span> <span> <em>battle</em> </span> <span>.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>*</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The dull thus of wood striking wood sounded again and again as Castiel parried Dee-Ann’s lunging strike. A second more and his exposed left flank would have taken a nasty blow. Turning on the spot, he let off a series of rapid fire punches to Dee-Ann’s shoulder before throwing his weight to the side as Dee-Ann made to swipe his feet from under him with his right foot. What follows is a series of whirling strikes as Dee-Ann, stronger than Castiel by a not-insignificant measure; performed a perfect hota. Castiel snarled at him, feeling his wooden stick fall from his hand as his wrist received a nasty blow. If it had been a true sword, it would have shattered, but thankfully they were only using sticks. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Too slow!” Dee-Ann grunted. “Read your opponent’s body. Anticipate their next move!”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel growled at him.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Then clubbing Dee-Ann’s “Sword” hand out of the way with both of his intertwined fists, he took advantage of Dee-Ann’s momentary loss of balance to plant a flat foot directly into his stomach. In the moment it took for Dee-Ann to regain his footing, Castiel had launched himself off the trunk of the Willow into an overhead flip that sent him vaulting clean over Dee-Ann’s head and adding some much needed distance between them.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Good!” Dee-Ann said tracking his progress. “You’re more agile than me! Use it!”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel looked around furiously for a weapon, then sensing as much as seeing Dee-Ann about to lunge at him, he grabbed a fistful of mud and threw it at Dee-Ann’s face. It splattered on his cheeks and ought to have disoriented him; but Dee-Ann was too fast. He shifted his weight to his front leg and stepped right into Castiel’s guard, grabbing his arm and slapping him through the face with a flat palm. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel stumbled, then lose his footing altogether, ending up in a less than graceful heap on the ground. Dee-Ann chuckled, tossing his own stick aside. It was over.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Light blind me.” Castiel snarled, feeling infinitely annoyed with himself. They were both panting hard, and despite the cold; they skin was gleaming with sweat.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“You’re getting better.” Dee-Ann said stepping closer to him and offering his hand. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“Is </span> <span> <em>that</em> </span> <span> what you call this?” Castiel asked sounding annoyed as he swiped slimy mud from his face and flung his soiled braid over his shoulder. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I mean it.” Dee-Ann said hoisting him up when Castiel accepted his hand. “You almost had me that time.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“And yet I seem to still find myself dining on mud every time.” Castiel said spitting on the ground. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“You’re fast. And light on your feet. You’re not strong enough for some of the manoeuvres you are attempting. And still have a lot to learn in close quarters. But if you learn to master your temper a bit more, and manage to keep your opponent away from you, you could do some real damage. A longer weapon might suit you better. A spear or a lightweight longsword.” Dee-Ann said working hard not to chuckle from the look on his face.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“You are not so much stronger than me.” Castiel fired off. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“No. But a woman would be. And in a real fight, you’d be dead right now.” Dee-Ann said seriously. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I could burn your off where you stand. Boil your eyes out of your head.” Castiel said acidly. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“</span> <span> <b>No.</b> </span> <span>” Dee-Ann said firmly. “No magic. You rely on your powers too much. And they tire you out. I’ve seen it. Blade and hotas, </span> <span> <em>that</em> </span> <span> is the way you should learn to defend yourself.” </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel nodded. They had discussed the matter at length. Castiel had managed to conduct himself admirably the night of the Massacre in Et-Novakar. But they both agreed that there had been an uncomfortable amount of luck involved. Dee-Ann had heard the soldiers speak of it more than enough. A warrior could never rely on luck. It was a fickle mistress, who tended to run out just as one needed it the most. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>So this sparring had become a part of their daily routine. Morning and night, they spent an hour practising hotas. After that they armed themselves as best they could and fought until one of them was in the dirt defeated. Castiel had yet to best Dee-Ann, but even in just these few short days he had improved greatly. Learning to kill was not so different from learning to dance, and his body swam through the forms Dee-Ann showed him like a fish through water.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>They had passed through Et-Theramore without much fuss. By a stroke of luck, a kind of makeshift market had sprung up outside the city gates. Traders and peddlers who had been denied entry into the city for whatever reason, seeking to make what coin they could from travellers and passers by. It was nothing near so grand a bazaar as Dee-Ann had described from Et-Banotaj. But they had managed to stock up on some much needed supplies and had even managed to buy some more serviceable clothes for the road. There was still much they needed for the journey. But the memory of those Auberdine Pork Pies had convinced even Dee-Ann that whatever coin they needed to part with in order to buy proper food was more than worth it. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Training done, they settled in for breakfast. Castiel made a fire, while Dee-Ann cooked them corn cakes in the tiny skillet they had acquired; and each of them enjoyed a handful of salted goat meat. It was a sparse meal, but infinitely more appetizing than what they had grown used to. Castiel removed the small jar of honey he had purchased when Dee-Ann had not been looking; and watched with delight as his face lit up when he saw it. It was a small thing. But Castiel had learned that Dee-Ann could be bribed to almost anything with a generous spoonful of honey on whatever they were eating.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Aaaaaiiiiieeee how it warmed his heart to see him so happy. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel had not said as much aloud. But having heard some of what Dee-Ann had suffered through in his life, a fresh layer of tenderness had formed in his chest looking at the blond man as he savoured every morsel of his treat. Castiel sighed. To see that smile never leave Dee-Ann’s face, he would pluck every star out of the heavens and serve them to him on a platter.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>*</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>They set off less than a finger after newsun. Dee-Ann proved particularly adept at breaking camp. The new tent they had purchased was large enough for both of them. And it had the added benefit of being dyed nearly black, which meant they were all but invisible as they slept. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>It was nearly mid-morning when they came to another Godpost. It was as grim and foreboding as others they had passed. And it churned Castiel’s stomach to see the bloodstains clinging to the Godstone at its base. But at the very least, there were no bodies there. Neither of them said a word as Castiel refilled his pockets with rejected coin from within the Godbowl. Dee-Ann walked a little away and did not look. But at least he made no effort to stop him. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“What border is this?” Dee-Ann asked. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“We are crossing into the lands of Et-Ronnok.” Castiel said stopping next to him. “Grain farmers mostly. And a little iron from mines scattered throughout the area.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“How far?” Dee-Ann asked.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I’m not sure. To be honest I don’t know much about this place. It is not a particularly large or important province.” Castiel said a little apologetically. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“I do not know this place. We did not pass through here before.” Dee-Ann said squinting at the horizon. The land stretching in front of them was as one would expect, endless rolling hills and fields. Though Castiel noted the way many of them seemed derelict. Despite the rain, this place was not thriving. He had been remarking – as they had ventured further and further from Et-Novakar – that the </span> <span> <em>browning </em> </span> <span>was growing ever worse. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“We are moving closer to the centremost provinces of Mijak. It is possible there are more trade routes here than just the Queen’s Road. Many of these provinces have dealings amongst themselves. They would need more roads. That could be good for us.” Castiel suggested. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Possibly, we just have to make sure we don’t end up taking the long way.” Dee-Ann said absently, before setting off.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>*</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>It was early the next day that Dee-Ann abruptly stopped them, crouching down low so he could survey the road ahead. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“What is it?” Castiel asked softly. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Check point up ahead.” Dee-Ann said softly. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“Fuck.” Castiel said under his breath. Every time they had come to one of the godcursed things it added a half day to their journey having to go round. Checkpoints recorded every traveller. And they were still too close to the Capitol for </span> <span> <em>Vortka</em> </span> <span> and </span> <span> <em>Zandakar </em> </span> <span> to appear on any official manifests. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“At least it means the town must be close.” Castiel said. He did not respond to Dee-Ann’s scowl. They both knew it also meant there was an increased military presence in Et-Ronnok which they wanted to avoid. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Come on.” Dee-Ann said already walking off into the woods.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>*</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>They came to the town of Et-Ronnok well after lowsun that day. They would have to sleep outside the walls that night, but at least they were here. Castiel noted with distaste that the place itself looked foreboding. It had built on a hillside, with deep moats dug around its perimeter, and there were many poor dwellings outside the walls of the town. It was not a big place, but it dwarfed Et-Thelamore. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“No fire.” Dee-Ann said as they began setting up the tent. “We’ll eat what doesn’t need any cooking and stay in the tent.” He said.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“You think they’ll see us?” Castiel asked squinting. The dwellings seemed far enough away that the meagre smoke from their little fire would surely not be seen.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I’d rather not chance it.” Dee-Ann said.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel sighed, but did not argue. Dee-Ann sometimes had an instinct for the cruelty and desperation of women that Castiel had not quite acquired as of yet. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>*</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>They slept early that night. With no fire to sit around the darkness closed around them quickly. It was therefore quite a surprise when Castiel was stirred from sleep by Dee-Ann putting a finger to his lips. He sat up confused, before he heard it too.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Voices.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Right outside the tent. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>It was difficult to gage with so little light, but in the Crimson darkness of the Quiet time; it sounded as if the speakers were no more than fifteen feet from them. Castiel shuddered, but did not make a sound as Dee-Ann placed the handle of Castiel’s knife in his hand. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Coulda sworn ai saws walkers onna road.” He heard a woman grate out. She was speaking softly, but she was obviously not alone. And in the artificial quiet of the night their voice carried. Castiel gripped the knife. If it came to a fight……</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Shhhhh!” another voice admonished. “Yew’ll wake tha dead.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>This second voice sounded even closer.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Light see him! Castiel crept closer to the opening of the tent, where Dee-Ann was crouching knife in hand. His eyes were used to the dark, and he could see Dee-Ann hold up a hand in a waiting gesture. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The snap of a twig betrayed that the two women were much closer now. Castiel shuddered again, trying to think. It took every ounce of his self control not to flood his tattoos with power. And though he managed to fight it off, he still found himself clenching and unclenching his fist around the blade. Strange light played over the closed tent as they sat, flickering and bright. The women had torches.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Wossat then?” the first voice said.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Wot?” the other woman asked. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Aintchu seein it? Right there.” The fist woman muttered, speaking much softer now.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel closed his eyes. They’d seen the tent. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The sound of footsteps approaching grew louder, and before he could say anything; Dee-Ann whipped the tent flap aside and stepped out into the night. Castiel’s eyes widened.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Good evening.” He heard Dee-Ann say.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The sound of wicked, cruel laughter cut the night. “We-e-e-elllllll” the first woman said loudly. “Wot has we ere then?” she continued, her voice growing vague as she – obviously – turned to look at her companion. “Sprag yew seein dis?”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“Allow poppet….” The other woman – </span> <span> <em>Sprag</em> </span> <span> apparently – said dripping sweetness. The lights inside the tent grew brighter as the torches drew closer. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Good evening.” Dee-Ann said again. “I’m so glad you’re here. I seemed to have misplaced my strike stone and I was sorely missing a fire.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Strike stone he says.” Sprag repeated, laughing without humor. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Did I hear your companion call you Sprag?” Dee-Ann asked. “I am Zandakar. I am so pleased to make your acquaintance.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Despite everything, Castiel fought the urge to sigh. Dee-Ann was not speaking like himself. His voice had a lilting quality, and his accent had changed. It was plainly clear he was imitating Castiel. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Oh ai! Sprag. As me. Is here’s Nunji.” Sprag said slowly. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“If’n it please ya.” This </span> <span> <em>Nunji</em> </span> <span> said with no better humour in her voice.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>Castiel gnashed his teeth. He wanted to leap out! He wanted to </span> <span> <em>do</em> </span> <span> something! But for the moment he was frozen in place. Dee-Ann seemed intent on these women thinking he was alone. Which meant that, as long as they did not know of him; Castiel had an advantage. He crept a little away from the opening of the tent. His clothes were black. Unless they looked right into the tent they would not see him. He would choose his moment. But, not content to simply sit there like a plucked chicken, he took steps. He moved from his knees into a similar crouching position Dee-Ann had been in. Ready to strike. His braid – cascading freely down his back – he coiled tightly around his neck three times and tucked the end of it snugly into the top of his tunic. He remembered the battlement. There would be no convenient grabbing for these women. He took a mental inventory of both of their packs. He had only a small kitchen knife. That wouldn’t do. He tried desperately to think of anything he could arm himself with in his other hand. If it came to that, he preferred to have </span> <span> <em>two</em> </span> <span> weapons. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Woz a pretty li’l fing like yew doin out ere all by yer onesie ay?” Nunji asked.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“My escort was unexpectedly killed on the way here.” Dee-Ann said evenly. “Because of this delay I arrived too late to enter the town gates and therefore decided to sleep here for the night.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Oh ats a right shame now innit?” Sprag asked. “Terrible fings been appenin on these roads.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Is why we’s patrollin. Town guard innit?” Nunji said. There was a rustle of fabric, and a crinkling of parchment. Castiel cursed silently. He wanted desperately to know what was happening!!!!!</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Town guard?” Dee-Ann asked sceptically.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Oh ai! Man-day-it by the local oh-thor-ity we is. Keepin da peace anna like.” Sprag said in what was apparently he usual grating voice. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“There’s a little X down there.” Dee-Ann said smoothly. “Tell me. Is the…</span> <span> <em>local authority</em> </span> <span>…in the habit of signing official appointments with an ‘X’?” </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“S’e givin us lip?” Nunji barked. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Seems he is.” Sprag said sounding almost joyful. “Why’s yew dressed laik a girl den hey?”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Safer to travel.” Dee-Ann said losing none of his sweetness.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“Mights be. Fing is…….S’only two kinda peoples sneekin round inna dark ain’t no fire. No escaw…..</span> <span> <em>Adjitatus</em> </span> <span>.” Sprag said pausing as if she was proud for knowing the word. “An whores whoz lookin fer bizzniss.”</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>There was a flurry of activity then. Rapid steps leafy ground and the distinct sound of fabric being pulled tight. Castiel did not know what was happening, but there was the resounding sound of someone being slapped, a female grunt….then the unmistakable impact of flesh on flesh and Dee-Ann’s pained groan. Castiel closed his eyes and clenched his teeth to stay still as more impacts followed. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The scene played out in his mind. One of them had tried to grab him, and when he had slapped her; she’d punched him. And now they were kicking him.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The women chuckled. And the sound seared Castiel’s soul. His hands gripped the knife, and digging quickly, closed around the handle of the cast iron skillet they used for cooking. It was heavy and thick and perfect in his hand as he crept closer to the mouth of the tent. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Well ai reckin we know wot brand o’trouble we got here. Ah reckin we takes him back to town.” Nunji said in between chuckles, speaking as if she was making a grand speech. “Course we’ll be needin t’make sure we’s got it right?”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Sprag laughed cruelly. “Oh ai! Ah reckin if’n is li’l whore ain’t the sorriest stripe o’cock cum mornin…..he’ll be the sorest.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>There was the sound of fabric rustling, and the unmistakable sound of a belt being undone. More cruel laughter from the woman.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann gave a pained groan.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>And that was it. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The final nail in the coffin.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>That groan.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>Castiel felt his tattoos flood with power without thought as he </span> <span> <em>leapt</em> </span> <span> out of the tent like a sand cat with a growl.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>His hands </span> <span> <em>flashed</em> </span> <span>! A pure curtain of light bright enough to scorch!</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He heard the two women scream in surprise….</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>….and agony!</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Though he had not been similarly affected, he was certain they were – at least for the moment – completely blind.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He leapt into action.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>His hands </span> <span> <em>flashed</em> </span> <span> again! </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He did not know which one of Nunji or Sprag was closest to him. And he did not care.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The woman stood at the ready, brandishing what looked like a vicious knife. She swung it in a neat arc in his direction. He tried to dodge her, but she managed to clip his blade as he brought it up. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He kicked her savagely in the cunt, making her scream. He felt two hands grab him from behind. It was the other one.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He thrashed wildly. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>"Fucking bitch!" he heard the woman holding him say savagely.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel bucked wildly, swinging his legs and bringing them up in unison to his chest to build more momentum. He managed to kick out with enough force that he felt the woman behind him slacken her hold just enough.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He batted his hands free and elbowed her in the nose. She spluttered. Checking that the other woman was still incapacitated, he felt his mouth twist into a cruel snarl.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He plunged his knife up into her meaty chin, feeling the blade pass through the thick muscle of her tongue and up into her skull! He felt a wet squelch around his clenched fist.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>She gave a kind of stuttering groan as he ripped the knife free, amidst yet another spray of blood and whirled around!</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The skillet, he swung in a wide arc, catching the other woman upside the head as she swung her arms blindly and fell backwards. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>She made a pitiful sound as the metal struck her ugly woman face. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel looked at her with disgust. She was still alive. Blood was streaming freely down the side of her head, and she was trying to scrabble away from him.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>As if sensing his nearness, she started swinging what looked like a club wildly. He kicked her wrist aside, </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel pressed his foot into her crotch, feeling the fabric slide over the slickness of her cunt even through the leather of his boot and her trousers half undone.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>This was the one who had thought to rape him first. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The one who had delighted in how sore Dee-Ann would be when they’d finished. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The hatred he felt welling inside him in that moment burned so hot he could see light dancing off his glowing tattoos. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The knife in his hand sizzled as the blood still dripping from it dried and flaked away.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He did not remember swinging it. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He did not even remember aiming. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>He was only aware of the way she and the knife seemed to….</span> <span> <em>merge</em> </span> <span>….</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>She died without so much as a scream, the knife buried to the hilt in between her tits. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>*</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Stepping back, Castiel spat on her dead face, then turned back to Dee-Ann. After the lightshow he’d just put on it was hard to see in the dark. But Castiel could just make out the man’s silhouette where he lay. Dee-Ann seemed to be trying to push himself up from the ground but Castiel stopped him.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Shhhhhhhh!” he said. “Dee-Ann it’s alright! Shhhh! Lie down! I have to look at you.” </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>Dee-Ann snarled, but Castiel could tell he was in pain. “I’m sorry!” Castiel choked out. For he realized he was crying. “Why would you </span> <span> <em>do</em> </span> <span> that?!” he cried as he helped Dee-Ann onto his back. “You stupid man!”</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I’m….aghri…..” Dee-Ann began then grimaced in pain as he settled on his back.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“If you say you’re fine I will kill you myself!” Castiel grunted as he relented and lit up his infernal tattoos so he could see.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He gasped. Blood was streaming from Dee-Ann’s nose, and there was a bruise forming on his cheek. But the main problem was his chest – which seemed to be the source of the agony. Castiel could only assume this was where she had kicked him. Light see him! If his ribs were broken……..</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel moved his hands over Dee-Ann’s chest, trying to be careful but also feeling for any strange lumps or bumps that did not belong. He didn’t find any. Not broken then, but still painful. Castiel winced as his hand brushed over a spot that made Dee-Ann wince as if it was his own body feeling the pain. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I’m sorry Dee-Ann….” Castiel pleaded breathlessly around a sob. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“St……” Dee-Ann breathed. “Stupid…..man…..” he grunted. “S-sav…” Wince! “…saved….” Wince! “…..m-me…..”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I did.” Castiel said not trying to halt his tears. “I killed them. They’re dead.” </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>Castiel darted into the tent, grabbing bedrolls and both of their cloaks and propping Dee-Ann up into a position that seemed comfortable. He made a fire then. He did not care if anyone saw. </span> <span> <em>If</em> </span> <span> they had not seen his lightshow already. And he did not care if they did. If this night saw fit to send more wicked horrible women he would burn them all to a crisp. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He fed Dee-Ann as much wine as he would take to make him sleep. He had nothing else. He was no Harrowspex or Godspeaker. He did not know herbs and roots and healing smokes and sleeping teas. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He waited until Dee-Ann was snoring soundly, before he let the full onslaught of his tears overwhelm him. He cried himself hoarse, then threw more wood on the fire. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“Is </span> <span> <em>this</em> </span> <span> the world then? Is this the world </span> <span> <em>you</em> </span> <span> want?” Castiel said out loud. He did not know how he was speaking to. And yet he did. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>He’d never been much for prayer. But on </span> <span> <em>this</em> </span> <span> night. The God was going to hear him.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“A world where women are built for nothing but murder and hate and rape and fear and blood?” he growled. “Is </span> <span> <em>this</em> </span> <span> your </span> <span> <b>plan</b> </span> <span>? Your mercy? This is how you treat your slave? Your devoted slave who would rather die than spurn you? Well </span> <span> <em>there</em> </span> <span> lies your slave! Look what they did to him! I blame </span> <span> <b>you</b> </span> <span>!”</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The malice in his voice was like venom dripping from his mouth. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“A world where innocent children are brutalized and murdered? Is that love? Is that your will?” he choked out around a fresh sob. “Slaves put to the knife just for crossing your roads?” </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>"Well </span> <span> <b>I</b> </span> <span> am </span> <span> <em>not</em> </span> <span> your slave!” Castiel barked grabbing the discarded knife and raising it to his own throat. “I defy you! Dee-Ann believes I am your chosen….well I have seen what becomes of your chosen and </span> <span> <b>I</b> </span> <span> say I am not!”</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The blade bit into his skin and he felt the blood well. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“I am Castiel! Last son of Et-Novakar! Least loved of my mother who </span> <span> <em>you</em> </span> <span> saw fit to raise to the status of a Queen! And I say…you…..you…..</span> <span> <em>monster</em> </span> <span>! Give me a sign! Give me a sign </span> <span> <b>right now</b> </span> <span>! Or I will plunge this blade into my throat! I will </span> <span> <em>end</em> </span> <span> all of your fucking plans right here!!!!!!”</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He released once icy breath.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He watched.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He waited.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Nothing!</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He closed his eyes, using his free hand to unwrap his braid from around his neck. And looking down at Dee-Ann one, last, time…..he raised the knife and……he let the knife slip from his hands. He cried pitifully. He cried for Dee-Ann. He cried for himself. For his own weakness. He did not want to die. He did not want it to end this way. He did not want to leave Dee-Ann……</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He thought of the boy he had been. Wishing for adventure and dreaming of the day he would leave the Palace. Now here he was. Too scared to even end his life. It had never looked like this in his dreams. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“You’re not even listening……….” He whispered, feeling a layer of sword steel close around his heart.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>He would never speak to this </span> <span> <em>God</em> </span> <span>…..ever again.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Feeling utterly defeated, and smaller than he had ever been; he moved till he was sitting next to Dee-Ann; clasping his sleeping hand and settling in to wait by his side until morning.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0053"><h2>53. Into the Badlands</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello my lovelies! I'm so sorry for the long delay since last time. My man had a little stretch of leave so we got outta the city for a bit amidst all this Covid nonsense. Hope you guys enjoy. I'm sorry if it feels like these traveling chapters aren't really moving the plot forward. I wear there is method to the madness. Ciao for now!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="normal">
  <span>By the time morning came, Castiel had slept no more than an hour. His body ached from sitting in the same position for a long time, and his eyes scratched. The night hours had seemed to crawl. After the attack of the two women, every twig crunching and leaf falling had made him leap to attention. Next to him, Dee-Ann was dead to the world. Twice, Castiel had roused him to give him warm wine. It helped him sleep. And he needed the rest. His left eye was swollen shut, and still darkening an ugly purplish color. His nose was a crust of dried blood, but thankfully it was not broken. Castiel put his ear as close to Dee-Ann’s chest as he dared. He thought he could hear a slight rattle in his breathing, but he felt no irregular bumps beneath the fabric of his tunic. He could only hope that meant no ribs were broken. He had read stories of how broken ribs could slice a woman’s insides; causing bleeding and all kinds of injuries that were invisible to the naked eye. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>With night swiftly making way for day, Castiel began to ponder their other problem. What to do with the dead women? He had considered trying to burn the bodies with his power. But that was too close to giving them a proper funerary pyre, and Castiel would scorch in hell before he would allow that. Let their wretched souls wander these woods aimlessly for all eternity. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>That still didn’t help him though. Dead they were too heavy for him to move. He had considered burying them but he had nothing with which to dig a grave. And this close to the town they would be found easily. Two women dead under mysterious circumstances in the black of night was one thing. Any number of things could have happened to them. Bandits. Animal attack. They could even have turned on each other. Two dead women in shallow graves was a horse of a different color. That spelled murder. He couldn’t have that. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Steeling himself with a breath, Castiel shrugged off his cloak, then his tunic and undershirt. The morning air was biting cold against his naked skin, making him shiver with goose flesh. Gritting his teeth, he coiled his braid around and around his neck, tucking the tip in firmly so it would not come loose. Then picking up his knife, he checked that Dee-Ann was still sleeping, adding another few twigs onto the fire; before walking to the fallen women. Tucking his knife between his teeth, he grabbed the nearest corpse by the wrists; heaving with all his might and dragging her along after him into the thicker trees.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>They could not be found like this. In fact, it was better if they were not found at all. Fortunately for Castiel, there were bears and perhaps even wolves in these woods…..</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>*     *     *</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann gasped when he saw Castiel walking back out of the woods. Castiel did not blame him. He could only imagine the sight of himself just then. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>His chest was smeared with blood, and his hands and arms were completely covered in blood and gore and foulness from his fingertips to his elbows. He could feel a spot on his forehead where he must have wiped the back of his hand, crusting his forelocks with blood as well. He offered no greeting, though Dee-Ann had already winced and shuffled his way to his feet by the time Castiel drew nearer the fire. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Wha…..?” Dee-Ann asked a little thickly. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I took care of it.” Castiel said gruffly as he fell to his knees next to the fire. Reaching for his bladder, he filled the small cast iron pot with water and placed in the flames to heat up, dabbing a rag into the water to begin wiping off his face. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann gave him a strange look, wrapping his arm around his ribs as he walked back in the direction from which Castiel had come. Castiel let him go. He knew what he would find. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>*</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Having dragged them into the woods one by one, Castiel had sliced open their tunics to expose their chests. Next he had sliced open their bellies and spilled their guts on the ground in front of them; making sure to cut open their lungs and hearts and stomachs and livers until the blood flowed freely. He had dug long grooves into their arms and necks and inside each thigh, before he had set to work cutting through the joints of their ankles, their knees, their elbows and their wrists. He had tried and failed to sever their thighs at the hip. His knife was too small. Or he did not know the right place to cut. Either way, he had cut clean to the bone so it was not for nothing. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The stink of raw meat and blood and shit and had hung so thick in the air Castiel was sure he would vomit. But he did not. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>It was up to the beasts now. With their insides so exposed, it would not take long for the women’s corpses to begin stinking. After that he could only hope the beasts and the scavengers would not tarry long before they identified a sumptuous meal. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>*</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>Dee-Ann came back a few minutes later. The look he gave Castiel as he sat scrubbing himself was one of approval, as well as fatigue. He carefully scanned his good eye for any sign of judgement or horror. But there was none. He realized he was waiting for Dee-Ann to judge him. To be appalled with what he had done. But he wasn’t. The realization came simultaneous with the one that Castiel was judging himself. </span> <span> <em>He</em> </span> <span> was appalled. He was horrified. He had killed those two women without a second thought. He had murdered them. And he would do it again.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“How are you feeling?” Castiel asked. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann nodded, before indicating his throat. He pulled the fabric of his tunic down to show livid bruises forming there, and he held his hands in a strangling gesture before his neck and cleaned his throat thickly. Castiel nodded. It hurt him to talk after that dead bitch had choked him the night before.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“It’s alright. Don’t try to talk. Rest. Eat something if you can. I’ll just get myself as clean as I can, then we’ll be off. It’s less than a day to the town. We can get a proper room at an Inn, where you can recover.” Castiel said plunging the rag back into the hot water.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Dee-Ann looked as if he wanted to say something or protest, but he did not. Castiel busied himself scrubbing off as much of the blood as he could before finally re-dressing himself and beginning to break down the tent. Throughout, Dee-Ann’s gaze followed him. Castiel could feel the weight of it as he moved. Like a warm feather tickling over the edges of his mind. He did not want to speculate what it meant. But it didn’t feel hostile. And shooting Dee-Ann a small smile as he walked by him, Castiel felt the fist around his heart tighten just a hair as Dee-Ann – battered and bruised and tired and looking so small and innocent – smiled back.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>*</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Their progress was slow once they finally did get moving. Dee-Ann was favoring his side mightily as they walked, and his breathing seemed to be shallower than Castiel was used to. He seemed to be making an effort to affect his normal walk in spite of it; even though his face – around the dark bruises – was still pale and ashen beneath the hood. Castiel didn’t comment. There was no point. Dee-Ann could be stubborn as a thoroughbred when he wanted to be. And their time in the Harrowspex’s shop had taught him how much Dee-Ann hated being doted on. If he decided to dig his heels in, he’d refuse even the pathetic semblance of care Castiel was able to give him at the moment and probably die on the side of the road from sheer pigheadedness. By midday the town they’d seen was looming close enough to hear on the wind. Twice a group of riders had stormed by them without paying them any mind. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>Twice Castiel had bid them to stop and rest when he noticed Dee-Ann swaying on his feet slightly. He threatened him into accepting a little wine, and even got him to chew on a bit of salted meat. Castiel had chewed his bottom lip raw from worrying, but tried not to let it show as he leaned Dee-Ann against a low tree. At this rate, they wouldn’t make the town and would have to sleep out here </span> <span> <em>another</em> </span> <span> night. He looked around. The woods should have been beautiful. But there was an ominous feeling to the trees. This was a cursed place. And Castiel vowed never to return here if he could help it. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Salvation came in the form of an old woman driving a small cart dragged by an old mule. The cart was laden with onions and as soon as he saw it, Castiel jogged after it, shouting for the old woman to wait. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Please!” he cried. “Are you headed into the town?”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The old woman had pulled on the reigns, eyeing him suspiciously as she nodded. Up close she was even more ancient than she’d looked in passing. Her skin was papery as it sagged beneath her eyes. She had only a handful of godbraids hanging from beneath a leather cap. Her cheeks were hollow around a great hooked nose and there was no flesh on her limbs. Her hands as she held the reigns were gnarled and twisted.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>For a cruel moment, Castiel thought it would be easy to overpower her and take the cart and the mule. But he did not think they were quite reduced to such senseless brutality just yet. He soldiered on. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Please. My companion and I. We need to get to the Et-Ronnok. Our escort abandoned us and made off without horses.” He offered the lie without thinking. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Et-Ronnok’s more’n two days ride still. Is here is Paraidhn.” The woman said spitting onto the ground.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“It doesn’t matter. To Paradin then. I can pay you. Two gold dragons…..” Castiel said fighting not to lose his temper. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel could hear the desperation in his own voice but he did not care. The old woman considered them for a moment, looking from Castiel to Dee-Ann and back again before breathing a thin, rattling groan. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I’ll take yee as far as the gate.” She said, and rather horribly Castiel saw that she had barely any teeth in her fleshy gums. He nodded fiercely, digging one coin from his pocket and handing it to the woman.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“The other when we arrive.” He said holding the woman’s milky gaze for a moment before turning and gathering up Dee-Ann. He made sure she saw the knife he had strapped to his belt as he helped Dee-Ann onto the back of the cart. He clambered onto the cart as well, the motion foreign and awkward as he did. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“S’happen to’im then?” she asked with a sneer as she saw Dee-Ann’s bruised face.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“His horse threw him.” Castiel said flatly. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Wha’s beeziness two young men’ave in Et-Ronnok then?” she asked leering at Castiel with her hideous smile.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I’m paying for your cart, not for your questions.” Castiel said sharply, turning his back on her as he settled in. He felt the rickety cart quiver as she cracked the reigns and they were off. He saw Dee-Ann wince as the cart rolled into the motion. It was not a comfortable ride. Every bump in the road set them to bouncing and shaking, but it was infinitely faster than they were going on their own.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>It took them the better part of two hours before they rounded a bend in the road and the town of Paradin finally came into full view. As Castiel had surmised the night before, there was a large peasant slum outside the gates of the town proper. Wooden structures that looked unsturdy enough to be blown over by a stiff breeze. The road was dirt here, and there was a powerful stink of piss, and shit and all breeds of animals here. There were many people walking and even a few riders in the streets amidst the ramshackle buildings. It didn’t looks as if it had rained here in the last few days, but the road quickly devolved into a muddy slurry as they drew nearer. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>True to her word, the old woman deposited them a short walk from where the town’s Gatehouse loomed. Castiel thanked her and pressed the other coin he owed her into her hand. Dee-Ann – having slept a little in the cart – looked a little better as they approached the Gatehouse. There was a Gatekeeper sitting on a three legged stool next to the Gatehouse. A burly woman with an unpleasantly pink tinge to her face and a thick clump of godbraids knotted behind her head. She was snoring loudly, and Castiel noticed a tankard of ale on the ground next to her feet. Shaking his head, he motioned for Dee-Ann to walk ahead of him.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Several faces turned to look at them as they walked by. Their long cloaks were much finer than what most of the people in the streets wore, and Castiel made sure to pull his hood down low over his face. As soon as they were inside the walls, he guided Dee-Ann away from the main road, keeping his eyes peeled for a sign indicating an Inn. He would rather not have to resort to spending a night in another brothel, but if it came to that; they would manage. After the first half hour, he resigned himself to asking for directions. They stopped at a vegetable stall. The wilting tomatoes and sad bushels of carrots did not look particularly appetizing. A man with a plain face leaned on the wooden countertop. Castiel was extorted into buying a bag of dried beans and a small bag of corn kernels before the man offered him directions to an Inn a few streets over. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>A group of children were playing in the street as they passed. Castiel could not quite make out the mechanics of the game, but it seemed to be some variation on Hide and Seek that incorporated a ball of twine being passed from one to the other. Castiel smiled at a bold little girl who plucked up the courage to run right up to him and peek inside his hood. She was a filthy little thing – barefoot with grubby clothes – but her smile was genuine and she giggled fiercely as she rejoined the others.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel noticed something else as they walked through what he took to be a poorer Merchant district. Several of the buildings they passed – some stone but mostly weather stained wood – seemed to be empty. Their windows were tightly shuttered, and in some others – where no glass remained – they had been boarded up. A pall of poverty and neglect hung over the entire place. Here and there signs still hung from hooks and the names of businesses were still painted on the side of derelict buildings. He saw bits of intricate molding and even fine arched windows peeking out. Though he quickly saw that – what were once larger buildings – had been divided into smaller tenements with cheap brick. Did that mean this place had once been nicer? It was difficult to imagine. These streets were quickly devolving into a slum.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Finally coming to the Inn, Castiel made quick work of procuring them a room. The woman behind the desk looked slightly flustered as if she was not used to having an actual customer. Castiel frowned as she consulted a thick ledger and listed the – rather long – list of available rooms, squinting as if she was having difficulty reading her own handwriting. In a fit of indulgence Castiel opted for the largest room – with a fireplace and a bath – not bothering to haggle with the stooped Innkeeper about price. He gleaned from the look on the woman’s face that people did not often stay in this room, and he was grateful when she finally handed over the key and they could make their way up the stairs. The room he had rented sat at the end of the hall, and was guarded by two large double doors. He was surprised by what he found. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He did not think this building had always been an Inn. There was no tavern or seating downstairs. And looking at the interior architecture, he would have guessed it was an administrative office. Perhaps a money lender or the home of a lesser official. The floors were wood, though they hadn’t been properly polished in a while. Faded paintings on the wall showed scenes of ships and troubled seas. And the velvet of the curtains – for all that they were thick – was beginning to fray as they pooled on the floor. He slipped out of his cloak and draped it on an overstuffed chair missing a few buttons, noting a decanter of some amber fluid on a squat wooden table with a rather obviously repaired table leg. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>An intricate coat of arms had been worked into the masonry above the door of the bedroom, around a gilded ‘W’. And once he saw it, he began to notice it everywhere. The same ‘W’ was laid into the floor, in the frames of mirrors and even on the doorknobs.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“Curious.” He said to himself as he followed Dee-Ann – who had in the interim flung himself onto the bed – into the bedroom proper. The bed was a large oak affair, with more heavy velvet bedcurtains and beautifully carved posters at all four corners. The room was chilly, and Castiel busied himself pulling aside the heavy grate in front of the large stone fireplace, and quickly coaxed a fire from the thick logs already packed there. That done he returned to the other room – which he thought must once have been a kind of parlour – judging from the couches facing the fireplace and the bookshelves built into the wall. The bookshelves were empty now.</span> <span> And as he</span> <span> looked around the room, he began to notice more such incongruence. There were large empty spaces that – to his eye – made no sense, where the wood was substantially darker and less worn. Obviously they had been covered by furniture which was now absent. On the walls he could see missing spaces where what he could only assume were mirrors or paintings had similarly been removed.</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>He longed for the bath he found in the privy. It was a large porcelain affair with gilded taps. His aching muscles all but screamed for him to divest his clothes and dive in. But it would have to wait just a little longer. He needed to find them some food and perhaps some kind of a physic where he could get medicines for Dee-Ann. Returning to the bedroom, he found Dee-Ann dead to the world, snoring softly. He smiled, before picking up his cloak again and draping it around his shoulders.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>*</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>He found a Tavern a few streets from the Inn. It was decorated with wrought iron latticework on a low decorative fence around a small area that might once have been a kind of terrace. There were a few cast iron tables stacked on top of one another to one side, and no chairs. Frowning, he continued up the two steps into the Tavern proper. A handwritten sign nailed to wall by the door read: ‘</span> <span> <em>Warm ale. Hot Stew. Soup. Fresh bread.</em> </span> <span>’</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>It was only as he passed that he saw it was covering an older sign which had born an actual menu meticulously scrawled in much finer writing. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Inside the Tavern was a study in contrasts. The door opened a little stiffly, and there was a cunning little bell fixed to the ceiling which rang prettily as Castiel entered. The floor was made up of checkerboard tiles that wanted a thorough scrubbing, and interspersed between the standard long benches Castiel was beginning to expect in places like this, he could see smaller, round tables which were much finer. They stood on spindly legs of finely carved wood, and the fresh scuff marks suggested they had – until recently – been covered by table cloths. The walls were decorated with murals of country scenes. Though like everything else they were covered in a layer of grime that bleached all the colors to a muddled grey. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>A young woman – barely more than a girl – stood behind the large wooden bar, polishing a glass with a rag. Her face was somewhere between handsome and childish, and Castiel thought in a few years she would be quite attractive. Her godbraids were dark and just threatened to overtake her shoulders as she turned to smile at him. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Good afternoon.” She said warmly, with only the slightest trace of the local accent in her voice. “What can I get you?” </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I’ll have some ale please.” Castiel said opting for a barstool in the corner. A few of the tables were occupied by women who looked a bit rough or Castiel’s taste and he had no real desire for company. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>It was only once he was seated that he noticed the wall behind the bar. It was covered from floor to outstretched arm height in an intricate series of wooden slats that made a diamond pattern. They were all empty, except when he leaned forward and saw a few dusty bottles near the floor. This was a wine rack. He frowned, doing a mental calculation and guessing there was space enough here for hundreds of bottles of wine.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>When the girl returned with his ale, she saw him looking. A mild flush of embarrassment colored her features. As if reading the question in his mind she spoke first. “From before. My mother was a cook in the household of a local Baroness. She retired and opened this place. All the local Nobles and traveling Merchants used to dine here. It was one of the finest restaurants in the town.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>She spoke almost sadly, and Castiel tried to imagine what it might’ve looked like. “What happened?” he asked. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Same thing what happened to everything else.” The girl said. “The mine closed down. Crops failed. All the money in the Town dried up. And there weren’t no more Ladies and their husbands to come here. Those that could afford it moved away to seek their fortunes somewhere else. We who were left behind had to make allowances. The pox killed my father eight seasons ago. He used to manage this place. My mother had to sell all the fine furniture and silver spoons. Killed her to do it. She crawled into a bottle. Died two seasons later.”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Castiel didn’t speak for a long moment. He could only assume the girl didn’t speak to many people. Else why would she be so forthcoming with her plight? But it was still a tragic tale. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“You’ll want some stew?” the girl asked nodding. Castiel simply nodded as she was already walking away. He grunted around the first sip of ale. It was dark and bitter, and so strong it took his breath away. He eyed the dusty bottles of wine mournfully, wondering if it would be a terrible indulgence to purchase a few; having already splurged on their rooms at the Inn. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>His thoughts were interrupted by the sound the bell as the door opened. He glanced on instinct to see a man walk in. He was dressed in leather breeches and a woman’s vest over a thick woolen dress that barely reached his knees. He scanned the room and called out a warm greeting to some of the other patrons, before walking up to the bar and depositing a basket on the countertop. Now that he was closer Castiel could see he was very pretty. Sharp features and large brown eyes. His godbraids wanted redoing badly. He had allowed them to grow out a few inches from his scalp, allowing a few errant strands of very dark hair to fall about his face in a way that was both disheveled and roguish. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>The bar girl came back and her entire face lit up as she saw him. “Pip.” She said as a greeting, and Castiel thought she might have a little crush on him the way she leaned over the counter. The man leaned in and placed a quick kiss on her cheek.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Bess m’lass.” He said in a voice that was a little deeper than Castiel was expecting. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“What brings you into town?” she asked. “I didn’t think we’d see you for another week?”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Ahm runnin a coupl’a errands fer me lawd’n master. And ahm onna mission a’mercy.” He pronounced proudly, sliding the basket over to her. She pulled back the thin cloth covering its contents and gasped, looking at him as if he had horns growing out of his head. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Are you demonstruck?” she asked in a pointed whisper, hastily replacing the cloth. “If a Godspeaker saw you it be five lashes in the town square!”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Oh hang the Godspeaker.” He said dismissively. At this the girl gasped and looked around feverishly. Having – apparently – forgotten about Castiel, she looked at him mortified; her eyes widening comically as she clutched at the basket. Before he could say anything the man looked over to him. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Ah dunno you.” He said simply.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Well spotted.” Castiel answered without thinking. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Thing is. Ah know everyone an they mama.” He continued, narrowing his eyes in a way that was more joking than threatening. “At means you ain’t from around here.” </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“A veritable bloodhound.” Castiel said getting mildly annoyed as he pointedly looked down at his ale. He didn’t appreciate this man’s overly familiar comportment. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“New in town. That must be excitin’ being from some other place. Ah wouldn’t know. Ah’ve lived here all mah life.” The man said even though no one had asked. A pointed look at the girl seemed to remind her that Castiel was still waiting for his stew. Still clutching the basket of whatever contraband this man had delivered; she walked out of sight. Castiel was quite shocked when the man was suddenly pulling back the stool right next to him and sat down. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Chicken.” He said flatly. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I beg you pardon?” Castiel asked moving back in his chair. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“S’what’s inna basket.” He continued. “Ah know you was wonderin.” </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Chicken?” Castiel asked still confused. He nodded.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“E’er since the moon went and turned itself red, Godhouse says they need e’ery chicken inna town fer sacrifice’n sum such.” He said. “Number one. Ah say boo t’that. Why come th’regular folks gotta starve on nuffin but beans an gruel while they’s slicing up e’ery bird inna district. Ah hate beans me. Too stringy. Minds me o’mah paw’s cookin. He could burn water an it’d still be raw inna middle.” </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Burn water?” Castiel asked scrunching up his face. He was quite aghast listening to the man speak. He’d never heard anyone speak so dismissively of Godspeakers or the Godhouse before. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Number two. Ain’t no point sacrificin em all near as ah can tell. God ain’t listenin. Ain’t taken not one a dem chickens. Moon’s still jus as red is it can be. Now ah ask you. You think they’s lettin all that perfectly good chicken meat lay there’n rot? Nah ah didn’t think so neither.” He continued on smoothly. “You don’t say much do ya?”</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Difficult when you won’t let me get a word in edge wise.” Castiel remarked. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Ahm Pip.” He said extending his hand.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Pip?” Castiel asked taking it reluctantly. It dawned on him that he was unused to people speaking to him so casually.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Am ah hard te hear?” Pip asked frowning. “Cause you keep repeatin e’erything.” </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“Pip is not a name. It’s the worst part of a fruit.” Castiel said taking back his hand. If he’d expected this </span> <span> <em>Pip</em> </span> <span> to be offended, he was destined to be disappointed. Instead the man chuckled and slapped his thigh as if Castiel had made a good jape. </span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“What does your mother call you?” Castiel asked. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal"><span>“Seein as how she died inna last crusade, she don’t call me nuthin. But when ah was a babe, my Maw was inna service of ole Lady Sin-Klar. She named me </span> <span> <em>Cuthbert</em> </span> <span> after her paw, but ah ne’er took to it.” He said as if the name tasted foul. “People’s been callin me Pip e’er since they figured out ah make th’best peach pip brandy inna whole seven baronies put together.”</span></p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Peach pip brandy?” Castiel asked. He’d never even heard of such a thing.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“There you go again.” Pip said with a wide smile. Castiel shook his head. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“There are no baronies in Mijak. Only Warlords and their fiefdoms?” Castiel continued before Pip could launch into some other story.  </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>Pip scoffed, the chuckled. “Ain’t no Warlord out here inna Badlands.” He said, then stopped speaking as if that was more than sufficient. Castiel was about to enquire when the girl finally returned with a bowl of steaming stew. Castiel frowned at it. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Is it possible for you to wrap this for me? And I’ll need some soup and bread as well. And one of those bottles of wine.” He said in a sharp, clipped tone. For a moment she gave him a skeptical look, which incensed him even further. He fixed her with a look and after a moment she rushed to prepare his order. He sighed. He’d had quite enough of this…whatever this was. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“S’alotta food fer just one. Got yerself a sweetheart?” Pip asked. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“My traveling companion is resting in our rooms. And it’s time I got back.” Castiel said flatly. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Companion huh? That some high born way o’saying: ‘Woman who ain’t mah wife?’” Pip asked with a grin.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“That’s a…highborn way…of saying that’s none of your concern.” Castiel said draining the last of his ale.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Ah didn’t get your name?” Pip said when Castiel stood up from his stool a few minutes later when the girl handed him his wrapped parcel. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“I didn’t give it.” Castiel said simply. Pip chuckled again. </span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Ah’ll be seein you stranger.” Castiel heard the man say to his back. He rolled his eyes and pulled up his hood as he stepped out into the open air again</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>*</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p><p class="normal">
  <span>“Count on it.” Pip whispered to himself once the stranger had gone.</span>
</p><p class="normal"> </p>
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